


Nobody Gets Left Behind (Or Forgotten)

by goomy_is_love



Series: Skuldalið [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Clintasha - Freeform, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Family, Fluff and Smut, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Smut, kind of, not sure how smutty yet, rated E just in case, whether or not it's romantic is still up for debate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goomy_is_love/pseuds/goomy_is_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the fifth story (I think) in my Erika Stark series. Title's taken from Lilo and Stitch because at some point Erika has referred to everyone as her Ohana.</p>
<p>Erika thought the universe was done throwing her curve balls. Once again, she's proven wrong. Meanwhile, her siblings continue to adapt to life on Midgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I’m having fun with these guys, and I don’t think their story’s done quite yet, so please, remain seated, and keep your hands and feet in the cart at all times. Thank you, and enjoy the ride!
> 
> All recognizable characters belong to Marvel and Loki’s children are based off of the Norse Myths of the same name, I only own Erik and Erika.
> 
> Also, I’d like to make a note that I haven’t been keeping very good concistancy with Loki’s children and their age. Sleipnir is the oldest but acts like and is treated like their little brother. Narfi and Vali would have been next, then Fenrir, then Jormungand, and then Hela.

 

 

-          - - - - -     - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

When Erika first began visiting her siblings, she only felt close to Sleipnir, talking to him about things that upset her in the waking world. She mistrusted Jormungand, and she was afraid of Hela and Fenrir. She didn’t start confiding in Jormungand and Hela until Tony almost died from Palladium poisoning.

All that showmanship to look Big and Scary, and they were just big softies all along.

Fenrir was . . . . . not so soft. He was just as mean as he looked. Yeah, he was a lot nicer now, but Erika still had a hard time connecting with him.

That being said, she really, really tried connecting with him when she got back from the weird parallel universe the Yggdrasil staff had sent her to (and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had felt sorry for the other Fenrir, who had been a slave to his nightmare of a brother’s commands. Nope, definitely not).

Surprisingly, it was Fenrir who offered a way for her to spend more time with him—sword training.

“Your footwork and stance were atrocious,” he’d told her. “I’m surprised you even managed to hold yourself upright.”

So, here she was, down in the training room with a wooden sword, following Fenrir’s instructions.

“Keep your feet slightly wider than shoulder width apart.”

“Okay.”

“Now, take a good step forward with your left foot.”

Erika placed her left foot forward.

“Make sure to keep yourself evenly balanced between both feet, and stay on the balls of your feet for better mobility. Turn your right foot at a 45 degree angle, and keep your chest upright and bent at an angle, also 45 degrees.”

She turned her foot and leaned back slightly.

“Make sure to keep your left foot straight.”

“Kay.”

“There are at least six different footwork techniques, but we’ll only be focusing on one of them right now—advance and retreat.” He mirrored her stance. “The advance part is simple—you drag your back foot forward, never crossing your front heel, and then you move your front foot forward, so you’re back in the stance. Think of it as your back foot nudging your right foot forward.” He demonstrated, and then motioned for her to mirror his actions. “Keep your back foot at 45 degrees,” he reminded.

Erika looked down at her feet, sliding her right foot forward, then sliding her left foot forward.

“The retreat part is the same, just in the opposite order.” He reversed his motions, and then so did she. “Good, now use it—come at me.”

Erika brought her back foot forward, and then her left foot, aiming at Fenrir with her sword. He blocked it easily and moved to attack her. Instinct kicked in and her feet moved of their own accord, hopping back almost immediately the way he’d shown her.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? What does ‘hmm’ mean?” she asked.

“’Hmm’ means don’t look at your feet when you’re moving—keep your eyes on your opponent.”

Erika bit her lower lip and nodded. “Eyes on you—got it.”

They did that for a while, moving back and forth. Fenrir blocked all of Erika’s moves and hit her with his sword every turn.

“Owww,” Erika whined when his sword hit her in the side for what felt like the hundredth time. “Why can’t we use foam sword, or something?”

“Wood is heavier—if you practice with foam, and then hold a metal sword, you’ll be off balance,” said Fenrir. “Do you need to stop, or can you keep going?”

Erika shifter her weight. “I’d like to stop for a minute, please.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted. “Of course you would. Fine, what’s the expression? ‘Take Five.’”

“Thank you.”

Erika sat on a bench and alternated between holding her side and her bad leg, and after a moment Fenrir came and sat down beside her. “You’re learning faster than Jormungand,” he admitted.

“Really?”

He nodded. “He’s an adequate fighter, but he was always off balance during his lessons. I think that’s why he opted to spend his time with our Father’s spell books instead—it was easier for him.”

Erika had heard stories of Jormungand’s childhood in Asgard, and none of them were pleasant. He’d always been small by Asgardian standards—tall, but too skinny, which was ridiculous, because Jor was pretty damn buff. Normal Aesir had a lot more muscle on them, though, so she could kind of see why they’d deemed him not good enough.

“How come you never learned magic?” Erika asked.

Fenrir snorted. “Is that what he told you? That I’m some big, blundering oaf who couldn’t cast a spell to save my life?”

Erika blushed and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, ‘something like that.’

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not as gifted with magic as he and Hela are—that doesn’t mean I can’t do it. Head-on attacks are quicker and more efficient, though, so I stuck with sword training and hand-to hand.”

“Fat lot of good it did you—they still managed to chain you up.”

“In my defense, they tricked me,” he countered. “I was still a pup, and they called it a game, claiming no harm was meant each time I broke their chains. They went to the Dwarves, then, and came back with the weakest looking chains I’d ever seen.”

“Didn’t you bite someone’s hand off when they chained you up?” she asked.

That made Fenrir chuckle. “Yeah, some dunderhead named Tyr put his hand in my mouth as a sign of good faith—he was a lying bastard, and it served him right when I bit it off.” He paused. “They stuck the sword down my throat, after that.”

Erika scuffed her foot against the floor. “Was this before or after Odin Banished Jor and Hela?”

“After,” said Fenrir. “Hela had been gone for a long time, and Jormungand had just been banished.” He looked down at his lap. “If you tell them this, I’ll deny it, but. . . . . . I’ve always felt like I could have done something to save them. Aside from Sleipnir, I was the big brother, and I just stood by and let people mistreat them.” He swallowed. “A group of boys threw rocks at Hela once. I was older than them, and they were afraid of me—they would have listened to me if I had told them to stop.”

“But you didn’t,” she guessed.

“They all hated Jormungand and Hela so much, and I though . . . I thought if I let them have their fun, then they wouldn’t hate me.” He let out a huff of air. “It didn’t matter, in the end—I was just another Monster, growing too fast, and the village children were told to behave, or I’d eat them.”

Erika looked at him, then. “But weren’t you just a kid yourself?”

“That hardly mattered—even as a pup, my wolf form was as big as a horse.” He growled, then, low and guttural. “I should have slaughtered them, starting with the prick that almost killed Jormungand. I should have swallowed him whole and spat out his bones.”

Erika was silent for a few moments. Then, she asked, “Have you actually ever killed someone?”

“. . . No.”

“Good, because living with that on your conscience sucks,” she said quietly.

Fenrir looked at her questioningly.

She looked away. “I’ve been having nightmares after . . . . after killing Jormungand—the other Jormungand,” she clarified. “Whenever I fall asleep, I’m back there, and I keep seeing him. It alternates, sometimes, and he turns into our Jor right after the sword goes through. I have to watch Jormungand—our Jor— turn to ash, and he just looks so _betrayed_ , and . . . .  and I know, _I know_ killing that evil douchebag was the right move, but I just . . .I just . . . .” she trailed off, her voice cracking, and she covered her mouth with one hand and hugged herself with the other arm. She took deep breaths through the nose, and Fenrir noticed that she was shaking slightly.

Fenrir had never been one to offer comfort, but he hesitantly put an arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled her closer to him, not looking at her when she went still and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. He let go after a few moments, scooting away slightly and clearing his throat.

When he’d looked away from his double in that other world, just for a moment, he had seen his brother’s doppelganger burn to ash, and he’d been unsettled.

If he’d been in Erika’s position, he didn’t know if he would have been able to run him through with that sword.

“Enough of this heart-to-heart nonsense,” he growled, “Back to training.”

Erika gave a short huff of laughter, wiping her eyes. “Alright, ‘chick flick’ moment officially over,” she sighed, getting back to her feet.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS ABUSE, CRUDE SEXUAL LANGUAGE AND A BRIEF UNDESCRIPTIVE RAPE SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER. %%% IS WHERE IT STARTS AND ENDS.
> 
> It’s not even that important of a scene, just emphasizing how big of a douche Rannhal is.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -

 

Dodge, kick, dodge.

Lunge, block, kick.

Jormungand let out a loud ‘Oof!’ as he his back was slammed against the training room floor, Fenrir’s foot pressing down on his heaving chest.

“ _That’s the third time I’ve pinned you,”_ Fenrir said in their native tongue. _“Has matrimony made you soft, I wonder?”_

_“Forgive me for not being on guard twenty four hours a day,”_ Jormungand panted before teleporting out from underneath Fenrir, reappearing with his legs wrapped around Fenrir’s neck, and he fell backwards, sending Fenrir off balance and toppling him. Jormungand teleported away before Fenrir could land on him, reappearing sitting cross-legged on Fenrir’s chest.

_Get your fat ass off of me!”_ Fenrir snarled.

Jormungand snorted. “ _It’s only a few extra pounds, you’ll live.”_ He said, trying not to wince at Fenrir’s words. So he’d gained a few pounds since being married—so what? It wasn’t like he was obese. _“Besides, I’m hardly going soft—I can still pin you when I need to prove a point_.”

Jormungand was taken by surprise when Fenrir rolled them, and he landed face first on the floor. Fenrir sat on his legs, pinning his arms behind him.

_“Yes, but you can’t hold that position,”_ Fenrir countered. “ _Face it, Little Brother—you’re weak.”_

Jormungand struggled against his brother, growling. “ _I’ll show you weak!”_ he spat, and his upper torso suddenly snapped upwards and back unnaturally, the back of his head slamming into Fenrir’s face. Fenrir snarled and let go of Jormungand, holding his face. Jormungand twisted onto his back and brought his knees up from underneath Fenrir, planting his feet squarely on Fenrir’s chest and kicking, hard. Fenrir went skidding back, and when he moved forward to pin Jormungand again, he stopped short, Jormungand’s dagger at his throat.

_“For fuck’s sake, Jormungand, I said no daggers!”_ Fenrir growled. “ _Those won’t always save you, you know!_ ”

“ _NO, but they’ll slow my opponent down,”_ Jormungand countered. He dropped the knife and stepped away, raising his hands in surrender. _“Call it a draw?”_ he offered, holding out his hand.

He didn’t expect Fenrir to grab it and flip him, pinning him again. _“There’s no such thing,”_ Fenrir growled. _“You either end in triumph, or failure, and I refuse to submit!”_

Jormungand wriggled against his brother, but he couldn’t break free.

He couldn’t get away.

“ _Get off_ ,” Jormungand wheezed.

The pressure on his arms increased. _“Show me you’re not worthless—make me.”_

He struggled again.

_“Come on, you pathetic wretch, if you want me off of you, Make me get off!”_

Jormungand’s struggling became frantic. He couldn’t get up, he couldn’t get away, _he couldn’t breathe._ Without any control, his siedir lashed out, sucking him and Fenrir inside one of his worst memories.

**%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**

**_It was just him and Rannhal._ **

**_He was finally alone with the man he’d been infatuated with since before hitting puberty, and now he lay there, pinned underneath Rannhal, unable to move away._ **

**_“So, you want my cock?  Worthless little pervert, you’ve probably envisioned me fucking you like the little cockslut you are.”_ **

**_He heard the rustling of fabric and the sound of a belt being undone, and he felt his own tunic lifting up and the leather covering his backside was pulled down roughly to his knees._ **

**_“You want my cock so bad I’ll give it to you.”_ **

**_He was forced up on his knees and his head was pushed to the floor. Oh gods, the wasn’t what he’d wanted, and now he was thinking about what he’d done to himself to make Rannhal like him, because maybe Rannhal would like it better if he was more like a woman._ **

**_“By the Nine, you ARE a perverted little freak,” Rannhal spat nastily, putting his fingers between Jormungand’s legs. “Nasty little cockslut’s got a cunt, huh? Fine, then that means I can fuck you like a proper whore.”_ **

**_There was intense pain, then._ **

**_“Please stop,” he cried softly, not able to get his voice higher than a whisper. “Please. Please, I’m sorry, Rannhal, I’m sorry, please, please STOP,” he begged._ **

**_Rannhal’s belt was suddenly being forced between his teeth, fastened around his head, and he couldn’t speak now, he could hardly breathe around the leather, he could only lay there as Rannhal abused his body violently. When Rannhal was finished, he took his belt back and said, “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” and then he was gone, and Jormungand was left alone in the stables, bruised and bleeding, feeling dirty._ **

****

**%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**

****

****

Fenrir let go of Jormungand and leapt away like he’d been burned, feeling suddenly ill.

Jormungand got up on his knees, hugging himself and hunching forward. He was breathing heavy and shaking, and he wouldn’t look at Fenrir.

He teleported away before Fenrir could ask him what the hell he had just seen.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - --  -- - -

 

“Did you know Rannhal assaulted him?”

Erika looked up from the papers she’d been pouring over. “Hello to you, too,” she said dryly.

“Well? Did you know?” Fenrir demanded.

Erika raised an eyebrow. “I though all of Asgard knew Rannhal beat the shit out of him.

Fenrir shook his head. “Jormungand was banished after he was found in his room, tied up and beaten, covered in blood—that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Erika bit her lower lip. “You’re talking about the thing in the stables, aren’t you?” she asked quietly, and Fenrir nodded sharply. “Hoo, boy. Yeah, I know about that. He didn’t tell me, though—Sleipnir mentioned something about it, and I put the pieces together. I don’t even think he knows that I know, and I’m totally okay with that.” She paused. “How did you find out?”

Fenrir swallowed. “We were sparring, and I pinned him. His siedir lashed out, and we got pulled into a memory.”

Erika winced. “Yeesh, that sucks. What did he say?”

Fenrir shook his head. “Nothing—he left before I could say anything.” He let out a long sigh. “I’ve called him a freak more times than I care to count. I’ve called him so much worse, and all this time, he’d been . . . . . Rannhal had . . . .” he trailed off, suddenly feeling ill again. He took deep breaths before asking, “Does Captain Rogers know?”

Erika shook her head. “If he did, Rannhal wouldn’t have survived Grandma’s visit to the tower.”

Later, when Fenrir tracked Jormungand down, he asked him why he’d never said anything.

“You heard what Rannhal had said—he would have killed me,” Jormungand said quietly. “I was young, Fenrir, and I was scared. What was I supposed to do? Nobody would have believed me, anyway.”

Fenrir opened his mouth to argue, but Jormungand glared at him and his mouth snapped shut. Instead, he asked, “So, when they found you in your room . . . . . . was that why there was so much blood?”

Jormungand let out a short, bitter laugh. “I _wish_ that was why. I was . . . . Before Rannhal had almost beaten me to death, I’d been . . . .” He swallowed. “Norns, I can’t even say it,” he said, placing a hand over his stomach. “I got the brunt of the abuse in the stomach, if that helps you put the pieces together.”

It did, and Fenrir paled. “You were barely past puberty,” he said quietly, horrified at his brother’s implications. “You weren’t even _of age_. How would you have cared for it?”

Jormungand swallowed. “I don’t know that I could have, though in the end, it didn’t matter, did it?” he said sadly. “I don’t know who told Rannhal—only my healer and a few others knew, and Grandmother had sworn them to secrecy. I only know that Rannhal cornered me in my room one night, tied me up, and then proceeded to beat the ever-loving shit out of me.” He let out another humorless laugh, mixed with a choked sob.

“I never even knew if it was a boy or a girl.”

Fenrir didn’t know what to say—he didn’t think anything he had to say would help his brother feel better, so for the first time in his life he did the smart thing and kept his mouth shut.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try focusing on someone else and it still circled around back to Jor. Ugh.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I’m gonna focus more on the others soon.
> 
> Frigga belongs to Marvel.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Jormungand was dreaming.

He had to be, because the last thing he remembered was it being night, and he had been laying in his and Steven’s bed, listening to his husband’s rhythmic breathing.

Now, though, he was standing in front of the cherry tree Sleipnir had planted in their grandmother’s garden after her death, and she was sitting on a stone bench beside the tree.

Jormungand swallowed. “Frigga?”

Now he was sure he was dreaming.

She smiled at Jormungand and rose from the bench. “Walk with me,” she said, and then she started forward, beckoning Jormungand to follow her.

Jormungand went to follow her, but paused when he thought he heard a child’s laughter. He looked behind him, and could have sworn he saw something dart behind the cherry tree.

“Jormungand,” Frigga called, and Jormungand went to catch up with her.

“I want to tell you a story,” she said. They were walking through her garden, back towards the palace. “Once, there was a little girl,” she began. “Her mother was royalty, but was shunned by most of society.” They reached the edge of the garden and began walking up the path that led to the palace. “The girl’s mother was assaulted, and that was how she was conceived.”

A sharp pang went through Jormungand’s chest. “Did . . . did her mother love her?”

Frigga nodded. “Yes. Even though she was conceived through a hateful act, she was cared for deeply, and her mother, though very young, was prepared to do everything and anything to make her feel loved.”

Jormungand heard the same laughter he’d heard in the garden, and he caught sight of something disappearing around a corner ahead of them. “Was she able to care for her child?” Jormungand asked.

Frigga ‘hmm’d. “No,” she said sadly.

He swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“There was another assault shortly after the girl’s conception.”

Jormungand felt his heart drop. “She died,” he guessed.

Frigga nodded solemnly. “It wasn’t the end of her tale, though—her soul went to the afterlife. The Queen of the afterlife was young, a child herself, but she cared for the girl, making sure she was happy.”

“Hela,” Jormungand breathed, feeling marginally better.

Frigga nodded again.

They stopped in front of a hauntingly familiar door—Jormungand’s old room in the palace. Frigga motioned for him to open the door. He did so, and his breath caught in his throat.

It looked like how he had last seen it, before his banishment, except it looked like a small child also inhabited it. He ran his fingers along the rails to a small cot, and he caught a glimpse of beautiful dresses made for a child hanging in an old wooden wardrobe.

A child’s laughter made him turn, and he saw something dart behind Frigga.

“Don’t be shy _, lítið eitt,”_ Frigga said quietly, looking behind her.

Jormungand swore his heart stopped as a little girl wrapped in a silver and green dress ran out from behind Frigga and wrapped her little arms around his leg. Golden hair framed her face in ringlets, and she looked up at him with green eyes so bright they were almost glowing. She giggled again and hugged his leg tighter.

**_Get ég vera fæddur núna?_ **

Her mouth hadn’t moved, but Jormungand heard her words as clear as a bell. He didn’t hear it translated, like the Allspeak normally did, but he could still understand her.

“She’s been waiting such a long time,” said Frigga sadly.

Jormungand felt tears stinging his eyes. “Is she. . . . .?” he asked quietly, looking at Frigga questioningly.

Frigga nodded, and Jormungand started crying, scooping the girl up in his arms and holding her close. “Oh, my little one,” he said, crying so hard his vision blurred. “My little one, my little girl, I love you so much,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”

Frigga watched her grandson cradle his child. “Now perhaps she can live the life that was stolen from her,” she said quietly, and Jormungand nodded fervently, still clutching the little girl Rannhal had taken from him, not wanting to let go.

**_Ég elska þig , móðir_ **

“I love you, too,” Jormungand sobbed. “I’ve always loved you, _dóttir mín.”_

After all this time, he finally knew his lost baby’s gender—a little girl, a princess he could shower with all the love she deserved.

“It’s time to let go, now,” said Frigga, placing an arm on Jormungand’s shoulder.

Jormungand shook his head, clutching the girl tighter. He didn’t want to let go—he never wanted to let go.

Frigga gave him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, Jormungand; you’ll see her again. You just have to wait a while longer.”

Jormungand squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he was laying in his and Steve’s bed and Steve was shaking him gently. He blinked slowly and frowned, touching his fingers to his eyes; he was crying.

Why was he crying?

“Hey,” said Steve gently. “I’ve been trying to wake you up for a while.”

“Oh.” Jormungand struggled to remember the dream he’d just had, and found that he couldn’t remember anything specific.

“Bad dream?” Steve asked gently, helping Jormungand sit up.

Jormungand wiped his eyes. “No,” he said after a few moments. “I can’t remember it, but I don’t think it was bad . . .” He let Steve pull him close and kiss the top of his head. “I’m tired,” he said.

Steve glanced at the clock. “It’s still early—we can stay in bed for a little longer.”

They lay back down, Steve spooning Jormungand and running a hand through Jormungand’s hair, and Jormungand fell asleep again a few minutes later. For some reason, his last thought was of a little girl with blonde ringlets and green eyes so bright they practically glowed.

 

-          **\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

****

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lítið eitt – little one
> 
> Get ég vera fæddur núna ? – can I be born now?
> 
> Ég elska þig , móðir – I love you, mother
> 
> dóttir mín – my daughter
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Yay for prophetic dreams.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL ABUSE WARNING – SOMEONE GETS SLAPPED AROUND IN THIS CHAPTER, AND NOT ENTIRELY IN THE FUN WAY. STARTS AND ENDS WITH % % % % %

 

**__ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_ **

****

**_The night before Steve and Jormungand’s wedding_ **

**_* * * * * * * * *_ **

A young man with short copper hair was struggling with his bag as he stepped off the bus. He slung the bag over his shoulder and ran a block to an old brick building with a line of people out front. A muscled man in black stood by the door and stepped aside so the redhead could go inside. “You’re late,” he said.

“I know,” the redhead panted, clutching his side.

“You keep this up and Brook will fire your ass.”

“I know, I know,” he wheezed, going past the muscled man. He moved through the club to a door in the back marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and hurried through it.

“You’re late, Lee,” a dark skinned girl in a purple lace bra and matching thong said, pulling on a short pleated skirt over the thong. “Brook’s pissed—you were supposed to be here an hour ago to help the bartender.”

“I know,” ‘Lee’ said. “I know, Kate, but my bus was late. I called Brook, she knows what happened.”

Kate ‘tsk’d. “Whatever you say, Lee,” she said, buttoning a long sleeve white blouse over the bra. “Your bus was late, your bus broke down, your alarm didn’t go off—you’ve got enough excuses to fill a book, Lee, and soon enough Brook’s gonna get tired of hearing ‘my bus was late.’”

He rolled his eyes, moving towards his locker. Everyone was comfortable around everyone else, so there was only one dressing room.

He opened his locker and pulled out a dark green and black corset with black lace trim and ribbons, a garter belt and thigh high fishnets, a pair of green and black silk panties and a pair of knee high black leather boots. He put his bag in the locker and closed it. “Doesn’t mean my bus wasn’t late,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. Just be careful, Elliot,” Kate said, tying a purple silk tie around her neck. She sat down and slipped on a pair of three inch heels. “You wanna keep this job, you show up on time—or do you wanna depend on that meth head boyfriend of yours to pay bills?”

“He’s not a meth head,” Elliot muttered. “He’s just got a little drinking problem, and he promised he’s gonna sober up.”

Kate shrugged. “If you say so.” She stood up and sauntered past him. “Just remember, Brook’s got a three strike rule, and you passed your third one a long time ago—you’re walking on thin ice, Lee, and I don’t know how much longer she’s gonna keep you around.” She left the locker room, then, leaving Elliot alone to get dressed.

Getting dressed was always a hassle, and he forgot to put his boots on before the corset, so he had to unlace the damn thing and put the fishnets and boots on first, _then_ relace the corset. Once he was fully dressed and had applied his usual makeup, he watched himself in the full-length mirror and frowned.

He _hated_ how big his hips and ass were.

Kate came back down the stair looking extremely pleased with herself, pulling a wad of bills out of her bra. “Man, there’s a guy out there handing out bills like they were candy—he and a few of his buddies was checking out Jason, too, so you should be good.”

_ Wham, Bam, thank you Ma’am! _

_ Get inside my fucking god Trans AM! _

Elliot’s eyes widened. Shit, that was his cue—he should have already been up there! He hurried past Kate and she gave him a ‘good luck!’

_ Wham, Bam, thank you Ma’am! _

_ Get inside my fucking Gold Trans AM! _

Elliot gripped the pole just in time, and he started his routine, trying not to think about how close he’d cut it. He ground his hips against the pole and heard several shrill wolf whistles, and he gave his audience a coy little smile. He looked to the pole over to right of the stage and Jeanette gave him a thumbs up, not even pausing her routine.

Kate was right—there was someone in the audience handing out bills like party favors. ‘Come on, Mr. Rich, help me make rent,’ he thought, sliding down the pole so he was crouched, giving the guy his best ‘I know you want me’ look, and Mr. Rich leaned a hand on the stage and crooked a finger at Elliot. Elliot smiled prettily and got down on his hands and knees so he could crawl across the stage. The guy held a hundred dollar bill between his fingers and said loud enough for only Elliot to hear, “This is yours if you give one of my friends over here a lap dance. He’s a little shy, so he won’t come up here to ask himself, but I think he likes you.”

Elliot smiled. “Whatever you say, Sugar,” he purred, and he let Mr. Rich tuck the bill in one of his garters. He got up and went back to the pole to finish the song, then when a new song started he slunk off the stage over to Mr. Rich and his friends. “So, which one of you boys wanted a lap dance?” he asked in his best breathy ‘take me, I’m yours,’ voice.

A man with short dark hair and sharp cheekbones spoke up. “That,” he said, “Would be this gentleman over here.” He gestured to a man sitting to his right, and Elliot looked him up and down. The guy was pretty ripped, and he had really bright green eyes and long, shaggy brown hair. He looked startled, though, and said something in a language Elliot didn’t understand.

_“Engin leið í helvíti!”_ he snarled, and Elliot was reminded of a feral wolf, snapping at something that had cornered him.

The dark-haired man ‘tsk’d. “ _Ekki vera dónalegur , Fenrir , og ekki segja að þú vilt ekki það - við sáum að horfa á hann.”_ He looked at Elliot. “Forgive my brother—he’s shy.”

_“Í fjandanum ég er! Ég sagði nei , Jormungand!”_   Wolf Guy snarled, and Elliot felt himself getting hot under the collar from that low, gravelly tone.

_“Hvað er rangt , bróðir ? Hræddir við smá hani?”_

Wolf Guy snarled again. “Fine!” he snapped, shifting so Elliot could stand between his legs.

‘Must be his first male lap dance,’ Elliot thought, giving Wolf Guy a little smile. ‘How cute.’ “Don’t worry, Handsome—you’re in good hands,” he purred, closing Wolf Guy’s legs and straddling them.

Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance’ started playing and Elliot started grinding against Wolf Guy in time with the beat. He rested one hand on Wolf Guy’s shoulder and raked his other hand through his own messy hair, looking at Wolf Guy through half-lidded eyes.

Wolf guy had tensed up the moment Elliot had started moving his hips and his eyes had widened, his face flushing a dark red. He raised his hands several times and they were shaking—he looked torn between making a fist and grabbing Elliot’s gyrating hips. Elliot was ready to slap those hands away and say ‘ah, no touching,’ but he never had to—Wolf Guy just balled his hands into fists and rested them on the outside of his thighs. Elliot gave a twist of his hips, and Wolf Guy shifted in his seat and squeezed his eyes shut.

If it weren’t for the poor guy’s raging hard on Elliot could feel against his crotch, he would have thought he wasn’t enjoying it.

A new song came on and Elliot pulled himself away from Wolf Guy. “Thanks for the ride, Handsome,” he said, giving Wolf Guy one last sultry smile before slinking off back to the stage.

_“Ekki svo beint, eftir allt,”_ he heard Wolf Guy’s brother say before he was out of hearing range.

_“kjafti,”_ Wolf Guy snarled, and Elliot looked back one last time to see he’d slid down in his seat and covered his face with his hands.

By the end of his shift, Elliot had made enough to cover the next three months of his and his boyfriend’s rent—he just had to make sure Levi didn’t spend it on booze before he could give it to their landlord.

**% % % % % % % % % % % % % %**

Levi was awake when Elliot got off work and made it back to their apartment. “”Bout damn time,” he slurred, lurching to his feet. “You need a different fucking job, so you’re not out fucking people all night.” His short black hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot.

Elliot refrained from rolling his eyes. “I’m a stripper, not a hooker,” he reminded Levi, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Same thing, if you pay them enough,” Levi slurred, staggering forward and trapping Elliot between him and the wall before catching Elliot’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. Elliot tried to shove him away, but Levi tightened his grip on him. “What, now you’re gonna make me pay for it?” he demanded. “I don’t need to fucking pay you to fuck you!”

“Nobody said you had to,” said Elliot, trying not to breathe in Levi’s booze soaked breath. “I’m tired.”

Levi slapped him; not hard enough to bruise, but it still hurt.

“I’m not asking for your fucking permission,” Levi snarled, dragging him to the bedroom and throwing him on the bed before pinning him down, catching his mouth in another wet kiss. “If I’m gonna let you go off and parade yourself in front of everyone, I’m gonna fuck you whenever the fuck I want! Got it?” he demanded.

Elliot nodded quickly.

“Good, now get your fat ass out of those clothes.”

This was normal, Elliot reminded himself.

This was always how sex was.

This was his life.

**% % % % %  % % % % % %**

Levi passed out before he could finish, collapsing on top of Elliot, and Elliot had to squirm away from him. This was normal, too—if Elliot wanted to finish, he usually had to finish himself.

When he finished and got cleaned up, Elliot glanced at Levi, then grabbed his pillow and a blanket and went out to the couch---Levi wouldn’t remember being awake when he got home, and Elliot would just say he got home later than usual and didn’t want to wake him up.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, interesting story about this chapter’s origins--I was practicing drawing male anatomy, because I could not draw a decent looking dude if my life depended on it. Some NSFW pole dancing stuff showed up on the art blog I was looking at and I was suddenly gripped with the urge to draw a male stripper almost giving a straight man a stroke and making him question his sexuality. I ended up drawing the straight guy as how I see Fenrir, and it kind of spiraled out of control from there.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot is my new precious baby, and I want to break him as much as I want to snuggle him.
> 
> I need help.

 

****

****

-          **_\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_**

****

**_PRESENT DAY_ **

“Are you sure about this?” Jormungand asked Erika as they entered a local fitness club. “The Tower has a training room, and nobody will push you further than you’re able to go.”

“I’ll be fine,” Erika sighed, adjusting the strap on her bag. “I’ve been here before, and the instructor’s pretty lenient.”

They reached a large room with several people already in there. A group of six women were in the middle of a dance routine set to Don Omar’s ‘Danza Kuduro’. They were led by a pale young man with short ginger hair and freckles dotting his face and arms. “Come on, Ladies! Shake that ass like a stripper on rent day _!_ ” he called, moving in time with the music in the front of the group.

_“Ay, White Boy, do we look like pole dancers to you?”_ a woman with light brown skin and dark hair said in Spanish.

“ _No, but with those hips, you’d make a killing,”_ he replied, also in Spanish. He noticed Erika come in and gave her a warm smile—he knew it took Erika a little longer getting places, so he didn’t chew her out for being late. He glanced at Jormungand, and his steps faltered, just for a second, before he regained his footing.

Erika eased herself down on a bench and placed her bag at her feet. Jormungand sat beside her. “ _That’s your instructor?_ ” he asked, never taking his eyes off the pale man.

“Yeah,” said Erika as she pulled off her jacket and put it in her bag. She shimmied out of her loose pants and stuffed them in the bag, too, leaving her in just black shorts and a black shirt that stopped right above her bellybutton. She pulled her hair up in a messy bun and laced up her tennis shoes.

Jormungand was looking at the brace around her knee, and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine—Dad’s new design gives me a lot of mobility!”

“If you say so.”

The music ended and the dancing women paused to catch their breath. The redheaded man came over to Erika. “How was your week?” he asked her.

Erika shrugged. “Pretty normal—well, normal for me, anyway. Erik says hi.”

Jormungand frowned. “ _He knows my son?_ ” he asked in Icelandic.

“He came with me last Saturday—everyone adored him,” Erika replied. To the redhead, she said, “This is Erik’s dad, Jormungand—well, one of his dads.” To Jormungand, she said, “Jor, this is Elliot.”

Elliot’s smile was a little too bright. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Are you joining in today?”

Jormungand shook his head. “I’m here for moral support.”

“Alrighty, then. Come on, we’re doing Anaconda next, so you should be able to keep up” said Elliot to Erika before moving over to the ipod and speakers to the side of the room. “Come on, girls, time to shake your buns!”

“Is there a rule against photography and video recording?” Jormungand asked Erika.

“I don’t think so—a few girls have had people tape the routines so they can practice at home. Why?”

“Oh, I want to show Sleipnir what this is—I think he’d like it,” said Jormungand, and Erika felt like he was lying, but she couldn’t prove it. She joined the group of women, standing just behind Elliot, and Jormungand pulled out his phone just as Nicki Minaj’s Anaconda started playing.

 

-          _\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

The Stark Phone Erika had given Fenrir went off in the middle of his sparring session with Sleipnir.

“No, please, check it,” Sleipnir wheezed. “I need a break.”

Fenrir snorted but went to check the sleek black phone.

**_New Message from – ormur_ **

**_At some kind of dance lesson with Erika._ **

Fenrir frowned and made a reply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 --- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_New Message from -- hundur_ **

**_And your point is?_ **

Jormungand’s grin was one of pure evil, and he attached the video he’d taken to his next message.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_New Message from -- ormur_ **

**_Her instructor looks familiar, don’t you think?_ **

Fenrir opened the video and was immediately assaulted with video and audio of his sister and six other women doing some sort of dance routine to an explicit song about backsides and anacondas, which Fenrir immediately understood was being used as a euphemism for male genitalia.

There was also a young man in the video, leading the dance, and once Fenrir recognized him his eyes widened and his face flushed a deep red – the dancer was almost unrecognizable in gym clothes and without makeup, but he’d recognize those hips anywhere.

‘God damn it, Jormungand.’

 

-          - - - -  - -- - - - - - - - -

**_New Message from – hundur_ **

**_Say one word to him and I will fucking end you!_ **

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - -

 

**_New Message from – ormur_ **

**_I think he recognizes me—I wonder if he remembers you >;)_ **

****

****

****

****

****

n  **_\- - - -- - - - - - - - --_**

**_New Message from – hundur_ **

**_I swear to all the gods, you filthy serpent, if you say one word to him I will make you suffer!_ **

****

-          **_\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_**

****

Jormungand was debating whether or not to reply to his brother’s message when Dr. Banner poked his head in the door.

“Come on in, we don’t bite!” Elliot called, waving an arm while still dancing to Daddy Yankee’s ‘Limbo’—he was the only one of them who didn’t seem tired.

Dr. Banner waved a hand. “I’m just here to pick someone up, but I guess I’m a little early – I’ll just wait right here.”

“Suit yourself,” said Elliot, then to the group he said, “Come on, girls, last dance—put a little pep into it!”

The only one who seemed to keep up with him was Erika, and even she was lagging a little. She swayed her hips and moved with the music, her skin shimmering slightly in the light from sweating and her face flushed a deep red. Her movements were more fluid than they’d been a moment before, though, like she was putting more effort into it, and Jormungand wondered why briefly before he saw her eyes flicker towards the door where Dr. Banner stood.

If he were human, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Alright, Erika!” Elliot called—there were mirrors all around the room and he could easily see the others. “Way to pick it up! Come on, ladies, she’s making you look bad!”

She was, too—even with her bad leg, she was moving, as Elliot had said earlier, ‘like a stripper on rent day.’

The song ended. “Alright, ladies, that’s a wrap!” Elliot called, and the women groaned in relief before shuffling off to get their belongings.

“Man, you are like an energizer bunny,” Erika panted, her newfound energy suddenly gone. “What’s your secret?”

Elliot shrugged, smiling. “I dance a lot,” he said, and Jormungand was very proud of himself for not snorting. Erika hobbled over to the bench where her things were and plopped down. “Hoo, boy!” she breathed, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Are his classes always so exuberant?” Jormungand asked.

“Nah, he went easy on us today,” Erika panted, moving to stand up but falling back down, wincing and holding her bad leg. “Shit,” she muttered. “I think I might have overdone it a little,” she admitted, and Jormungand rolled his eyes before shouldering her bag and helping her to her feet.

“ _You’re not going to impress anyone if you fall over,”_ he said in his tongue, and Erika shot him a look.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Erika muttered, and her face flushed a darker shade of red.

“ _I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me,”_ Jormungand said as Dr. Banner held the door for him and Erika to pass through. _“ ‘Just tell him.’ ”_

Erika shook her head slightly and Jormungand held back from saying anything else. He thought back to her instructor and the video he’d sent his brother, and debated telling her that he’d already met Elliot. He didn’t, though—if she didn’t know the ginger’s night job, then it wasn’t his place to tell her.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Right from the start I thought about Erika being interested in Bruce, but then I thought, ‘nah, aside from Pepperony and Frostiron there won’t be any romance in this.’
> 
> Jormungand kinda shot that in the face when he decided to ogle the Star Spangled Stud Muffin that is Steve Rogers, so now you’re going to see Erika as I’ve always seen her (and sort of written her)—with a huge crush on our resident biochemist/nuclear physicist.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Engin leið í helvíti! – no way in hell!
> 
> Ekki vera dónalegur , Fenrir , og ekki segja að þú vilt ekki það - við sáum að horfa á hann – Don’t be rude, Fenrir, and don’t say you don’t want it—we saw you watching him.
> 
> Í fjandanum ég er! Ég sagði nei , Jormungand! – The hell I am! I said no, Jormungand!
> 
> Hvað er rangt , bróðir ? Hræddir við smá hani? – What’s the matter, brother? Afraid of a little cock?
> 
> Ekki svo beint, eftir allt – not so straight, after all
> 
> Kjafti – shut your mouth
> 
> ormur – worm
> 
> hundur -- dog


	6. six

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - -

 

Elliot’s weekdays were always spent the same—wake up, go to his day job, come home to shower, go to his night job, come home and get manhandled by Levi, go to sleep, then get up and do it all again the next day.

Saturdays were the highlight of his week. He _loved_ his dance fitness class, and nobody seemed to mind that he was a man in a group of all women (he suspects that the fitness center thought he was a woman when he was given permission to be in charge of said women).

Saturdays were also his and Kate’s day off, so they always did something together.

“Rough day?” she asked one Saturday night as they met for coffee, watching with a concerned expression when Elliot looked like sitting was hurting him.

“Not too bad,” said Elliot, wincing a little as he shifted. “Just, ah, a little sore.” He’d gotten home from his fitness class and Levi had pounced on him the moment he walked through the door. “I’ll be fine.”

“Uh- _huh_ ,” said Kate, stirring her coffee. “He is _way_ too rough on you.”

Elliot waved a hand. “Nah, he’s fine. He just gets . . . . Wound up.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, but Elliot gave her a look and she dropped the subject.

Well, almost.

“So, has he found another job yet?”

Elliot didn’t look up. “He’s still looking. He said he knew a guy that could probably get him on at the company they worked for, but they’ve got to talk to their supervisor. He should know by the end of the week, though. His friend said his chances are pretty high.”

Kate snorted. “Yeah, until he shows up for work drunk and gets fired, _again_.”

Elliot didn’t say anything.

“You can do so much better,” said Kate. “Why don’t you dump his ass and look for someone who’ll actually treat you right, instead of a treating you like a piece of shit?”

Elliot actually looked angry, then. “Levi loves me, Kate,” he insisted. “He takes care of me—if it wasn’t for him – “

“You’d be out on the street, yeah, I know,” Kate sighed.

Levi’s friend ran their apartment complex and cut them a deal on their rent, and he’d been the one to get Elliot his day job. He’d worked where Elliot worked, a long time ago, and had helped Elliot get a job. They’d started dating after that, then they’d moved in together.

Then Levi started drinking and lost his job, and it was up to Elliot to pay their bills.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch,” Kate continued. “I’m just worried about you, Lee. You give so much, and I just think it’s time for you to get something back. People tell you to be grateful for what you have, and I know you are, but you deserve better.”

Elliot just shrugged. He had a home and two jobs, and he wasn’t alone—that was a lot more than a lot of people had, so he didn’t really have any right to complain.

When he came into work a few weeks later with a nasty looking bruise on his cheek, Kate looked ready to shank someone.

“Who did this?” she asked, reaching out a hand and tilting Elliot’s head to better see the bruise.

Elliot shook his head minutely. “Nobody touched me on my way here,” he said quietly.

Kate narrowed her eyes. “Did Levi hit you?

“No!” Elliot insisted again just as their boss was approaching them and both of them looked nervous; at 5’3” in heels and sporting short brown hair that made her look like something out of a fairy tale, Brook Hadley didn’t look like much of a threat, but god help you if you pissed her off.

“What’s going on here? Kate, you’re supposed to be getting ready. Elliot, you’re late—again.”

Elliot gulped. “I—I know, I came as soon as I could, I just--” he was cut off as Brook got closer and saw his face. “Oh God,” she breathed, immediately switching from Pissed Off Boss to Mother Hen—she could be a cold bitch, but she looked out for her employees. “Sweetie, what happened?”

Elliot hesitated and licked his lips. He gazed down at the floor, then met Brook’s gaze “I fell,” he said quietly, hoping she’d let it go.

She didn’t. “Elliot, if someone hurt you—”

“I fell down some stairs and busted my face on a rail,” he insisted. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m here now.”

“Honey, you can’t go up there with a shiner like that,” she sighed. “If you’re sure you’re alright, then I’m gonna send you home--”

“NO!”

Brook jerked and Elliot cringed. “Sorry, that was loud,” he muttered. Then, he said, “Look, I know I’m always late, and I know I keep saying it’ll never happen again.” His hands were shaking. “I just . . . . please don’t send me home,” he begged. “I can’t miss any more work, I already had to take a sick day from my other job, and if I go home now Levi’s gonna—“ he cut himself off, his mouth snapping shut. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and continued. “He got fired.” Again. “If I don’t work tonight, we won’t have enough to cover rent. I can cover the bruise, it won’t be a problem, just . . . . Please don’t send me home,” he begged again. “Please.”

Brook always had a hard time telling him ‘no.’

“Fine, but you’re not preforming. Put your stuff up, then go help Zeke with the bar.”

Elliot’s face lit up. “T _hank you_ ,” he breathed, and then he dashed off towards the locker room.

Brook watched him go with Kate hovering beside her. “I bet you anything it was that shithead boyfriend,” the dark skinned woman growled.

“We can’t prove anything,” said Brook, but she and Kate were thinking the same thing—proof be damned, if Levi was hurting Elliot, he wasn’t going to be around much longer.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, so I don’t know if I’m doing this right, but I think I remember reading somewhere that abusive relationships are recognized by everyone EXCEPT the one being abused. I don’t know if that’s right, though.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Just a quick note before we begin – I just saw Age of Ultron, and while I loved it, there’s no possible way for me to work it in within my own little Marvel universe. Like, at all. I have butchered MCU canon too much, I was lucky to fit Thor 2 and Cap 2.
> 
> Age of Ultron, though? Yeah, no way in hell. The movie inspired me, though, so this is just something I typed up real quick.
> 
> That being said, any recognizable characters belong to Marvel. I hope you enjoy :)

 

n  **\- - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - -**

**_There is only one path to peace . . .  your extinction._ **

****

**_Everyone creates the thing they fear._ **

****

**_How could you be worthy? You're all killers._ **

****

**_You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change._ **

****

**_When the dust settles, the only thing living in the world will be metal._ **

****

**_There are . . . . No strings . . . . On me._ **

Erika jolted awake, surging into an upright position and fighting for breath. Her eyes darted around the room and she took in the familiar sight of the Tower’s main lounge.

_“Are you alright, Miss Stark?”_ she heard J.A.R.V.I.S ask.

“You’re okay,” she breathed. “There’s no Vision. You’re okay.” And she got up on shaky legs and looked around.

The Tower was in one piece. J.A.R.V.I.S was still fully functional.

“ _Should I call Sir and Master Laufeyson?”_ J.A.R.V.I.S asked.

“No, I’m fine, it was just a dream,” she sighed. “A really, _really_ messed up dream.” She took a deep breath and sat back down.

“I need a drink.”

“Careful, I hear alcoholism is genetic,” she heard a gentle teasing voice from the direction of the main elevator.

“Yeah, it’s the Stark Family Curse,” she muttered back good-natured, smiling at Dr. Banner as he got closer. “Did Dad do something to chase you out of the lab?”

Bruce took off his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “Loki’s down there with him,” he said. “They seemed like they wanted to be alone, and I’ve already warned Tony that I can’t be held responsible for my actions if I find any body fluids in my samples again.”

Erika’s nose scrunched up. “Ew.”

Bruce looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Are you really that surprised?”

“No, but they’re my parents—it’s weird,” she muttered. Thinking about her parents (ew) made her think about her dream, and she remembered another part of it—the part where there had been a thing between Bruce and Natasha.

_That_ had been weird.

“You okay?”

Erika blinked up at Bruce, who was looking worried. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I guess my brain’s still caught in the dream I just woke up from.”

Bruce took a seat across from her. “Anything we need to worry about?” he asked cautiously.

It was known by now by everyone in the Tower that some of Erika’s dreams tended to be a little more than dreams.

Erika started shaking her head ‘no,’ but then she stopped and gave Bruce a hard look. “I don’t think so, but just in case, I’d appreciate it if you made sure Dad never reopens his Ultron project.”

Bruce was looking more worried the more she talked. “I’ll do my best. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Erika gave a small nod. “I’m fine,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

And everything _was_ fine—there was no way for her to know that her nightmares of homicidal artificial intelligence and robot armies were visions of a future that would never happen.

Not in _her_ reality, anyway.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t fit Ultron in this universe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him a cameo via spooky prophetic dreams :)
> 
> I’m gonna work on giving Bruce more screen time, cuz the poor baby deserves more love.
> 
> This is all I’ve got for now, I’m working on transferring some stuff from notebooks onto the computer, but it might take a minute and what I’m typing up is stuff that happens later, so I’ve got some gaps to fill.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Elliot-heavy chapter, hope nobody mind. The second half of this is a product of my sleep-deprived mind, as I’m tired, but not tired enough to will myself to go to bed.

 

 

Brook Hadley knew she could be a cold Bitch, Capital B, but that didn’t mean she was completely indifferent. She really did care about people and their problems, but she learned a long time ago that freezing her heart was a better way to keep it safe.

Brook’s compassion bled through with her employees, though. She was hard on them, sure, but if someone had a problem she always did her best to help. Her club wasn’t much, but damn if her workers weren’t like family.

She worried about Elliot the most, though, especially after he showed up for work with a bruise coloring his cheek and a story about hitting his face on a stair rail, but she knew better.

She knew what abuse looked like.

There was no proof, though, and they never would have been able to do anything—if Elliot’s domestic partner hadn’t come to the club and physically assaulted the redhead while he was on the clock.

It wasn’t a good night; Levi was arrested and Elliot went to the hospital, and his protests of ‘I’m fine, really, I can’t afford a hospital visit,’ nearly broke Brook’s heart.

She wanted to help, but she couldn’t pay the whole bill herself.

It was Kate’s idea to ask for donations, and everyone was willing to pitch in.

Elliot was a sweet boy; if they could help him, then they would.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - --

 

Elliot was told to rest, but he couldn’t. They had to keep him medicated or he would have tried to walk out of the hospital.

‘I can’t afford this,’ he thought, groggy from pain meds.

He’d needed a lot of stitches and when he was finally released, he’d missed a lot of work and the rent deadline. It was no surprise to find an eviction notice pinned to his and Levi’s door when he’d gotten home.

Levi . . . . . .

“Don’t think about it,” Elliot muttered, unlocking the apartment door. “Just . . . Don’t think about it.” He shut the door behind him before leaning heavily against it.

“Shit.”

Now what?

 

 

 

-          - - - - - -   --- - -  - --- -  -  -  -

 

Erika was worried when Elliot wasn’t at the Rec Center on Saturday. Nobody knew where he was and his phone was shut off.

On Monday Erika went to the small bookstore/café he worked at, but he wasn’t there and he hadn’t called in.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, I need you to find someone,” Erika said after the second week of his absence. “Elliot Renard, short red hair, green eyes, about 5’6”—5’7”, last known employer was the Green Dragon Café.” She gave the café’s address.

“ _One moment please.”_

A beat.

_“I’m having trouble locating an Elliot Renard that matches your description.”_

_“However, there is an Emily Renard employed at the Green Dragon, and that matches your specifications.”_

An image came onto Erika’s StarkPad and her eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s the address?”

J.A.R.V.I.S transferred the information to her phone.

“Yeesh, that’s a bad neighborhood—no way am I going there alone,” she muttered. At that precise moment the elevator dinged and her brother stepped out.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

“What are we doing here again?” Fenrir asked as Erika dragged him across Manhattan to one of the city’s worst neighborhoods.

“Checking on a friend,” was all she said, stopping in front of a run-down apartment building. “Wow, talk about your fixer-uppers,” she muttered. They were heading towards what she hoped was the right door when Fenrir stopped her. A moment later she heard why he’d stopped—someone was yelling inside the apartment they’d been heading to.

Before Erika could knock the door was yanked open and a middle aged man with a sour look on his face shoved past them. “If you’re friends with that freak, I wouldn’t stick around if I were you,” he snarled over his shoulder.

Fenrir snarled something nasty in Old Norse right back at him and the guy spun around to yell again, but one nastier look from Fenrir made him shut his mouth and walk away. Fast.

“ . . . . Alrighty then,” said Erika, and then she knocked on the door.

No answer.

“Elliot?” she called, knocking again. “It’s Erika—I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Someone was moving around inside the apartment and she stepped back as the door opened.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” Erika asked before she could stop herself.

Elliot looked like shit. He was pale and thinner than the last time she’d seen him, and there were bandages around his arms, hands, neck and forehead.

“Nice to see you, too,” he said dryly.

Erika blinked. “Sorry, that was rude, I was just—you haven’t been coming to the center, and your phone’s off . . . . .” she cleared her throat. “I’m just happy you’re okay. Well, obviously you’re not okay, but you’re not dead, so there’s that—sorry, I’m glad you’re not dead, we’ll go now.”

Elliot frowned. “We?”

And then he noticed Fenrir, who, Erika, noticed briefly, looked a little pale.

“Um, yeah, this is Fenrir. Fen, this is Elliot,” said Erika.

Fenrir seemed to be having trouble forming words.

Elliot, too, looked like he’d seen a ghost, but then he blinked and said in a hesitant voice, “Here, come in,” stepping away from the door. “Sorry, I should have invited you in first. Here, sit, I’ll get some coffee going.” They followed him in to a worn looking couch and Erika was wondering why they both looked like someone had killed a puppy.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  -  - -  - -  -

 

Erika looked ready to beat on Elliot’s partner herself when he finished telling her what happened, and she immediately offered him a room in the Tower, knowing Tony and the others wouldn’t mind.

Elliot declined, explaining that he had a friend who’d already invited him to stay with her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Erika asked again before she and Fenrir left the apartment. “I meant it, Elliot, you can stay with us, and it’s no problem.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Kate’s apartment isn’t too far from work, and I’ve already helped her clean out her spare room.” He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, though.” Fenrir had already bolted and was waiting outside, so he took the opportunity to ssay, “So, he seems . . . . Nice?”

Erika shook her head. “He’s usually pretty prickly, but I’ve never seen him like this; I’ll just give him a good whack on the head for his bad manners.”

Elliot swallowed. “It’s fine. I appreciate your concern,” he told her sincerely, and gave her a brief one-arm hug.

“Get better, kay? The others miss you, and between you and me they’re getting sloppy without our drill instructor,” she said, and then with one final ‘bye,’ she was out the door.

“I am not ‘prickly,’” Fenrir said defensively when she came out, and he dodged the blow aimed for his head.

“Your default setting is ‘unapproachable,’” she retorted. “Seriously, why were you looking at him like that?”

“Like what?” he asked, feigning innocence while dodging another blow.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’re smarter than you look—why did you look like you’d just seen something poisonous?”

Fenrir wouldn’t meet her eyes and he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘it’s personal.’ He clammed up after that, so she left it alone. It wasn’t until she’d talked with Jormungand that she learned Fenrir had already met Elliot. Jormungand didn’t say how they’d met, but just said Fenrir had been ‘having an identity crisis’ since their meeting.

He almost snorted his coffee when Erika asked, “They met at the strip club Elliot works at, didn’t they?” At his incredulous look she added, “It’s not a secret, Jor, at least not with the people at the Center. He’s even taught us a little pole dancing.”

“Now there’s an image I didn’t need,” Jormungand muttered after his coughing fit died down. “If you must know, then yes, they met the night before my wedding and Fenrir has been trying to come to terms with being attracted to another man.”

Erika thought about J.A.R.V.I.S’s search finding an Emily Renard instead of an Elliot, but that, she was sure, was not her information to share.

 

 

-           - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --

 

 

“Hurry, Uncle, hurry! Auntie, make him go faster!” Erik whined to Erika from his perch on Fenrir’s shoulders as they walked down the busy sidewalks.

“We’re going as fast as we can,” Fenrir said, jostling Erik a little and making the boy squeal. “Your Auntie can’t go as fast as I can, so we have to go slower.”

“I’m fine,” Erika insisted, though she was leaning heavier on her cane than normal. “I guess I just got a little too used to my good brace.” Some wiring had busted and the new one wasn’t ready yet, so she’d been forced to use one of her old braces and her cane.

“It’s right up the street! I see the sign!” Erik cried excitedly, and he would have fallen from Fenrir’s shoulders if not for the man’s sturdy grip on his legs.

A large sign with a dragon on it that read ‘Green Dragon Café and Bookstore’ hung over a rounded green door and Fenrir had to take Erik off his shoulders to enter, lest the boy knock his head on the doorframe. Fenrir himself had to duck slightly, his six-foot-three frame only able to straighten again once they were in the building. “They need a taller door,” he muttered.

“Nah, you’re just freakishly tall,” Erika sniffed,” Kay, Buddy, go with Uncle Fen to get a book and meet me by the window table,” she told the little blond boy, and couldn’t help the small laugh at the sight her nephew and brother made—Erik had grabbed onto Fenrir and was pulling towards the bookstore half of the shop.

Erika hobbled over to the café’s ordering counter and scanned the menu, trying to figure out what Erik might want.

She wasn’t worried about ordering for Fenrir—he’d eat anything.

The Green Dragon was odd in two ways. The first was, obviously, that it was a bookstore as well as a place to eat. The second was that the menu followed J.R.R. Tolkien’s Hobbit meal times. They opened at 7 am and served breakfast until 9, then second breakfast until 11, elevenses until 1, luncheon until 6 with afternoon tea starting at 4, and supper beginning at 6 until they closed at 9.

That, paired with the Middle Earth décor, made it one of many memorable shops Erika had visited while living in Manhattan.

It was a little past 3, so luncheon it was. Erika was next in line and she smiled at the person behind the register. “Hey, Stranger.”

Elliot smiled back at her, and it was none of her business if it looked tired and forced.

“Hi,” he said in a friendly tone.

“Glad to see you’re back on your feet,” Erika offered. “How’s the move to your friend’s going?”

“Good. I just got the last of my stuff moved over,” he answered.

It hadn’t been that long ago that Elliot had told her about moving, and she wondered if he’d rushed to pack everything or if he’d just not had that much stuff to pack.

She didn’t ask.

“Well, I’m glad you’re better,” she said instead.

“You and me both,” he sighed. “What can I get you?”

Erika ordered and leaned her cane against the counter before pulling her card out of her clutch purse. One wrong step with her bad leg, though, made it lock up. She cringed and dropped the card, and she would have fallen, but by some luck Fenrir was somehow suddenly there and helped steady her.

“God Damn it,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

“ _Easy,”_ Fenrir murmured in his native tongue, letting her lean against him. “ _Just breathe_.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” she ground out. “Jesus, that _hurts_.”

“Are you okay?” Elliot asked worriedly. He’d moved to come around to the front of the counter but stopped when Fenrir shook his head.

“I’ve got her,” said the taller man. _“Erik, get her cane and card.”_

_“Okay, Uncle,”_ Erik answered in the same language, shifting his book under his arm before retrieving Erika’s cane and credit card from the floor. “Here, Auntie.” He held out the cane so Erika could grab the polished silver wolf head handle.

“I’m fine,” Erika muttered, reaching for the cane. “See?” she insisted, letting go of Fenrir and leaning against her cane instead. “I swear, Fen, I’m fine. Honestly, after all this time, you’d think people would stop making such a fuss.”

“It’s not fussing if it’s a legitimate concern,” Fenrir shot back. “You need to sit, you’ve been on your feet too long. Go sit, I’ll finish,” he said in a ‘don’t argue’ tone, plucking her card from Erik’s fingers. “Erik, help her.”

“Come on Auntie, Uncle says you need to sit,” said Erik, pulling on Erika’s sleeve, and Erika gave Fenrir a look through narrowed eyes before following Erik to a table by the building’s large front window.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Elliot asked, accepting Erika’s card when Fenrir handed it to him.

Fenrir nodded once, still watching Erika. “She just needs to rest.”

“She’s lucky to have such a caring boyfriend.”

Fenrir blinked and turned back to Elliot, his brow furrowed. “She’s my sister,” he said in a voice that screamed ‘isn’t it obvious?’

Elliot flushed. “O-oh. Um. Sorry. Here, your food will be right out,” he said, handing over Fenrir’s copy of the receipt and Erika’s card before scurrying off towards where Fenrir assumed the kitchen was.

Fenrir would only realize later, once his concern for his little sister wore off, than he’d actually been able to function normally around the little redhead that caused him to ‘short circuit,’ as Jormungand had teased. He thought that maybe his dreaming hours would finally be free of pale freckled skin and copper hair, and he wouldn’t wake up in a tangle of sweaty, sticky sheets.

He was wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - -  - - - - - - -- - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ on a cracker, over 70 hits in 4 days! That’s incredible! Thank you so much! This series has gotten such a good reception and I couldn’t be happier!


	9. nine

Mario Kart, Steve decided, really did bring out the worst in people. It was fun to watch, but equally disturbing.

A tournament between Erika’s siblings probably hadn’t been the best idea.

_“Hver kastaði að þrisvar thá bláa skel ?! Ég sver við Óðni ég mun fokking enda þér !”_  a usually calm Sleipnir snarled, and Steve almost cringed at the venom dripping from his voice. “ _Ég mun skera þig opinn og alisvín binda þig með eigin fjandans þínum görnum !”_

_“Borða ryk minn, tík !”_  Hela crowed as her Peach passed Sleipnir’s Mario, and Fenrir growled low in his throat as his Bowser fell into last place.

 All three of them were beyond pissed, however, when Jormungand’s Rosalina knocked Fenrir off the Rainbow Bridge and passed by Hela’s and Sleipnir’s avatars into the winner’s circle with a smug “ _Á vinstri.”_

Fenrir snarled and clenched the controller so hard Steve thought it might break.

Jormungand opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could his brow furrowed and he frowned. “ _Skyndilega er ég ekki tilfinning vel_ ,” he muttered, and dropped his controller, grabbing the small lined trash can by the couch seconds before he became violently ill.

Steve was already sitting beside him and watched helplessly, occasionally rubbing a hand up and down Jormungand’s back. “Still not feelin’ good, huh?” he murmured.

Jormungand whined between bouts of heaving.

“I’ll get you some water,” Steve murmured before getting up and heading towards the kitchen for a wet rag and a water bottle. He grabbed them and made his way back to his husband, sitting gently beside him.

“Are you alright, _bróðir?”_ Sleipnir asked, his irritation at his virtual defeat immediately forgotten.

 “I’m fine,” Jormungand wheezed. He took the washcloth Steve offered with a small ‘thank you’ before wiping his mouth. He spat into the basket a final time before putting it aside.

Steve offered the water to Jormungand. “You sure you don’t need to see Bruce?”

Jormungand took a small drink before shaking his head. “We don’t need to bother him for at least another few weeks, I think—she’s growing faster than Erik, though, so maybe sooner.”

Steve frowned. “’She’?”

 “You didn’t tell him?” asked Fenrir.

Jormungand shook his head. “I haven’t found the right time, and you three only know because you can Feel her.”

Steve thought about how Jormungand had been ‘sick’ for near a week now. He wasn’t an idiot. “Jormungand,” he began. “Are you . . . . are you pregnant?”

Jormungand’s smile started small, but it soon grew into a grin big enough to reveal his unnaturally sharp teeth. He gripped Steve’s hands and nodded. “Yes, _elskan mín,_ we’re having another baby.”

Steve was on his feet and had Jormungand in his arms a second later, spinning them round. “That’s amazing!” he cried.

Jormungand squawked at suddenly being off his feet. “Ack, Steven! Steven, _þú kjánalegt maður, setti mig niður !”_ he managed to get out, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. “Put me down!”

Steve stopped spinning and put him down, but not before kissing him.

It wasn’t a very chaste kiss, either.

 “Do you need to be alone right now?” Hela teased when Steve finally released Jormungand, and Steve realized that he probably shouldn’t have kissed him quite as thoroughly as he had with their current audience.

“Please don’t try for a third child in front of us,” Fenrir groaned, and Sleipnir started laughing.

 

 

 

 

-          _\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

 

Erika was over the moon when Jormungand told her the good news.

“I’m gonna be an Auntie! Again!” she whooped. “This is so great!”

“I’m gettin’ a brother?” Erik asked hopefully.

“No, _sonur minn,_ I believe you’re getting a sister,” Jormungand told him.

“I don’t want a sister,” Erik pouted. “Girls are weird.”

“Watch it, Buddy, there are three girls here who know where you sleep.”

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Jormungand’s reaction when Steve stopped him from helping with the next Mission would have been funny if it hadn’t led to their first real fight since getting back together.

“No way are you going out there!” Steve said firmly.

“I’m not even that far along, I can still fight!” Jormungand argued.

“You’re staying here!” Steve insisted.

“I’m not an invalid,” Jormungand hissed. “I went last time with none of you the wiser, I fought, and I was fine! You have no right to stop me!”

Steve frowned. “You’re right—as your husband, I can’t tell you what to do.”

Jormungand’s smug smirk disappeared when Steve followed that with, “But as this team’s leader, you bet your ass I can ground you from missions.”

“Language,” Tony piped up while he passed them to go suit up.

“Shut it, Stark,” Steve shot back, then he turned back to Jormungand. “Look, we’re wasting valuable time—”

“Then stop being a stubborn ass!”

“—And I know you’re not an invalid, that you’re not weak. It’s not just you, anymore, though; you’ve got a passenger, and I don’t want to see either one of you hurt. You can walk it off, but she can’t.”

Jormungand growled, but didn’t push it further. “Fine,” he spat, and then he teleported out of the room.

Steve sighed. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” he muttered, and then he went to suit up.

 

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Jormungand gave Steve the cold shoulder for three days before they worked it out.

During those three days, sides were taken and bets were made about how long the fight would last and who would apologize first.

Tony was one of the ones on Steve’s side, while Erika agreed with her brother. Bruce and Natasha agreed with Steve, though they agreed that he wouldn’t be the first to apologize—he was too stubborn. Loki and Clint were, for once, in agreement about something—Jormungand wasn’t helpless, and he wasn’t reckless, he would have been fine. Hela and Sleipnir sided with Jormungand, also, and everyone expected Fenrir to be on his brother’s side, as well.

He wasn’t.

“My brother cares little for himself,” was all he said when confronted about both his choice and his bet—which had Jormungand as the one who was wrong _and_ the one who would apologize first. “He hasn’t had people to care for his wellbeing, so he tends to neglect himself and forget that what he does still affects others. He dislikes displeasing people, though, so he’ll break and try to make amends first.”

He was right.

On end of the third day Jormungand and Steve were in their room all night (Jormungand had been sleeping somewhere else during the fight) and he was just as affectionate as he usually was the next day.

“Ah, the healing powers of make-up sex,” Tony teased them both during breakfast.

Steve threw an apple at his head.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hver kastaði að þrisvar thá bláa skel ?! Ég sver við Óðni ég mun fokking enda þér ! --Who threw that thrice be damned blue shell?! I swear by Odin I will fucking end you!
> 
> Ég mun skera þig opinn og alisvín binda þig með eigin fjandans þínum görnum ! – I will cut you open and hog tie you with your own intestines!
> 
> Borða ryk minn, tík ! – Eat my dust, bitch!
> 
> Á vinstri – On your left.
> 
> Skyndilega er ég ekki tilfinning vel – suddenly I’m not feeling well.
> 
> Bróðir -- brother
> 
> elskan mín – my darling
> 
> þú kjánalegt maður, setti mig niður ! – you silly man, put me down!


	10. ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I haven’t had much time to write lately, I just got a new job.
> 
> Erik, Elliot, Erika, and her siblings belong to me. Well, this version of her siblings, anyway. Anyone else belongs to Marvel.
> 
> THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER.

 

-          **\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -**

 

 

The first time Sam and Bucky had sex had been after Thor had brought ale from his home. They were drunk and horny, and the next morning they agreed never to talk about it again.

The second time happened without any liquid courage—and the third time, and the fourth, and so on and so forth. After a while, they stopped counting and just went with it.

 

-          - - - -- - - - - -- - - -

 

Sam noticed Jormungand’s weight gain first, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything about it. Even after everyone found out he was pregnant, Sam still kept his mouth shut—it wasn’t his business if he went from no appetite to eating twice as much.

His sex drive was also being put into overdrive (Sam didn’t need to know this, but the whole damn tower knew at this point) and Steve looked _exhausted._

“Don’t tell me the Star Spangled Stud is running out of steam,” Bucky teased Steve when the Soldier plopped down in a chair while Sam and Bucky played Xbox (their current game was called Battle Block Theater, and it was surprisingly entertaining).

“Funny,” Steve deadpanned.

“You love me,” said Bucky, then he cussed out the weird raccoon dog that had just eaten his avatar. “Stupid fucking dog,” he muttered “It _always_ goes for me!”

Sam’s avatar collected the last gem they needed for the exit, and then Sam turned to Steve when the level was cleared.

“I know you’re not really an old man, but you look like you could use a nap.”

“Ha ha,” Steve deadpanned. “I don’t need a nap, I just need things to slow down,” he muttered, adjusting the crotch of his pants. “I think I’m starting to chafe.”

 “I’m happy for you two and baby on the way, but that’s definitely TMI,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah, well, so was the eyeful I got of you two in the kitchen the other day,” Steve shot back.

“What, like you and him haven’t fucked on every surface in the tower?” Bucky challenged.

Steve knew his answer was unexpected (and unwelcome) but he just smirked and said, “I never said that—we just don’t get caught.”

Their faces made Steve laugh.

“Stark has corrupted our Boy Scout,” said Bucky forlornly, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“I was never a Boy Scout and you know it,” Steve chuckled. “I got into too many fights.”

“True,” Bucky conceded. “Very true.”

A few minutes later Jormungand appeared and grabbed Steve’s hand. “ _Ég vil að þú ríða mér,”_ he said, and Steve recognized the words ‘fuck me.’

Bucky made a noise between being choked and laughing, and Sam easily guessed what Steve’s husband had said. “Make your country proud, Cap,” he said, saluting Steve before nudging Bucky and saying “This time, don’t slow me down,” before starting a new level.

Jormungand didn’t even give Steve a minute after standing before teleporting them to their room.

“Too many clothes,” Jormungand growled, fighting with Steve’s belt buckle. “Want you _now_.” He got the buckle open and almost ripped the button off Steve’s jeans in his haste to get them off.

Steve knew it was pointless to try and get Jormungand to slow down, so he tried to help with getting rid of their clothes as quickly as possible. His jeans and boxers had been yanked down and he kicked them off before Jormungand walked them backwards. Steve’s knees hit the bed and he sat down on its edge while working on getting Jormungand naked.

He’d asked his husband once why he didn’t just use magic to strip, and Jormungand had said, “Where’s the fun in that?” before giving a strip tease that had made both of them hot and eager.

Now he had a very naked (and very eager) Jormungand crawling into his lap and kissing a line up his neck to a spot right below his jaw.

“Want you,” Jormungand murmured, reaching between them to grab both their half-hard erections in one of his hands. Steve covered the slim hand with his own and they moved in synch, their hands becoming slick with precum as their cocks hardened. Steve gave Jormungand a rough kiss, cupping the side of his face with his free hand. “On your back,” he managed to grind out, and Jormungand moved to comply, laying on the overly large mattress on his back with his legs spread as wide as they would go.

Steve had joked to Sam and Bucky about needing a break, but that had been as far from the truth as possible.

He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of how beautiful Jormungand looked like this, spread out and eager for Steve to fuck him into the mattress.

Steve watched Jormungand stroke himself as he fished out lube from the night stand. “Hands above your head, no touching” he ordered, and Jormungand whined but complied, resting his hands above his head. He squirmed and bucked his hips when Steve kneeled between his legs and began tracing two slick fingers around his hole. He whined when Steve’s other hand traveled to his cunt and bit his lower lip when Steve covered it with a large palm.

“Please _,”_ Jormungand whined.

“Almost ready,” Steve said gently, adding another finger. He worked them in and out slowly, and Jormungand whined again as Steve used his other hand to begin fingering his cunt. When Steve had four fingers in up to the third knuckle, he pulled them out and began slicking up his own cock.

Jormungand grabbed onto the metal bars of the headboard in an effort to keep his hands above his head and he let out a breathy moan as the head of Steve’s cock pushed against his ass. Steve moved slowly, still fingering Jormungand’s cunt while his cock pushed further and further into his ass. Jormungand’s hips bucked and he wrapped his legs around Steve as if trying to pull him closer.

Steve’s movements started slow, but Jormungand urged him to quicken his pace and ‘give him a proper pounding.’

After Steve had found out Jormungand was pregnant, he’d been hesitant during sex; he didn’t want to hurt the baby. It took several instances of Jormungand reassuring him that both he and the baby could take it before he fell into his old habit of fucking the English out of his husband.

Steve didn’t hold back. He set a brutal pace that had Jormungand howling,” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu _uck_ , _ríða, ríða mer, ríða mér erfiðara!”_ He was panting and gasping for air, his chest and the swell of his stomach heaving with every breath, and he let out a high-pitched wail when Steve took hold of his bobbing cock and started moving his hand up and down the engorged shaft.

Both Steve and Jormungand had amazing stamina, and their sex could last for hours at a time, but this was not one of those times. Between Steve’s cock nailing Jormungand’s prostate with every stroke and Steve’s hands on his cunt and cock, Jormungand didn’t last very long at all. He came with a shriek that could shatter glass (the glass windows in their room, thankfully, did not shatter) Steve almost always came after seeing Jormungand hit his peak, and he gave a few more thrusts into the wet heat clenching around his cock before cumming with a shout of his own, barely catching himself before he collapsed on top of Jormungand and rolling to the side instead.

“Ow,” Steve muttered, wincing slightly as his softening cock slipped free.

He hadn’t been kidding about the chafing.

Steve looked beside him. Jormungand was still fighting for breath. There was cum painting his chest and belly, his hair was matted to his head, and his tongue was lolling out of his mouth while his eyes rolled slightly.

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth. ‘Worth it,’ he thought sluggishly as he pulled his husband closer.

 

-          - - - -  - - - - -- - --  -- - -- - --

Fenrir was happy for his brother.

Really, he was.

What he _wasn’t_ happy with was having to hear Jormungand’s shrieking all the way across the tower.

He really didn’t care to know every time his little brother had an orgasm.

Just . . . . No.

“ _You should invest in a gag,”_ he told Jormungand one morning after a particularly loud night.

“ _We did, he just likes to hear me scream,”_ Jormungand shot back, giving Fenrir a lewd grin.

Fenrir pulled a face and Jormungand’s grin turned smug. “Y _ou’re just upset because you don’t have that pretty redhead to keep you company.”_

_“Don’t,”_ Fenrir warned.

_“Still denying you like him?”_ Jormungand challenged.

“ _I mean it,”_ The elder brother practically snarled. “ _Mind your own fucking business!”_

“Ooh, someone’s snarly this morning,” Erika commented as she entered the kitchen. “What are we arguing about?”

“Nothing!” Fenrir snapped at the same time Jormungand said, “Fenrir’s pretty redhead.”

Erika’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Ooh, defensive, much?” she challenged Fenrir, and he glared at her. “Give him a bit to get over his scummy ex, then I say go for it. Erik and I are going to the Green Dragon for lunch, if you wanna come with and drool over him.”

Fenrir’s glare darkened. “I don’t drool,” he said defensively.

“I beg to differ,” said Jormungand, and dodged the nectarine Fenrir picked up from a bowl and threw at his head.

“What is it with everyone around here and throwing fruit?” Erika muttered, taking a nectarine for herself. “You’re wasting perfectly good fruit. How’s Meatball this morning?” she asked Jormungand.

“You’re going to keep calling her that, aren’t you?” Jormungand asked rhetorically. “She’s fine, she was quiet the whole night.”

“Unlike her mother,” Fenrir muttered, and Erika choked on her bite of fruit.

Conversation was steered away from any and all sexual acts that may or may not have taken place previously, and Erika asked if he and Steve had thought about names.

“You’ve only got six more months, then she’s gonna be here,” she reminded.

“That time can’t come fast enough,” Jormungand deadpanned. “I don’t look forward to swollen ankles and having to empty my bladder every five minutes.” His nose scrunched up. “My final trimester with Erik was anything but enjoyable. I will forever be in awe of parents with large families.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna give Steve a small army of little Blonde babies before I hit middle age, at the rate you two go at it. I swear, you’re like rabbits,” said Erika. “Being a God and a Super Soldier probably has something to do with that, because at this point in a new marriage, normal people would be exhausted. Back on topic—names?” she prompted.

Jormungand ‘hmm’d. “We haven’t really talked about it, to be honest. I’ll see what he thinks.”

He asked Steve later, after they’d put Erik to bed.

“I’m not too picky about names,” Steve told him as they spooned in their own bed.

Jormungand closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Steve’s arm around his waist, his hand rubbing a small circle on Jormungand’s belly. The baby was definitely growing faster than Erik had—Jormungand looked like he could be in the middle of his second trimester instead of at the beginning of it.

“I was thinking that Sarah could be a good name,” he suggested quietly, and he felt Steve tense behind him, the warm hand on his belly stilling. “Or not,” he said weakly. ““If you don’t want to, I’m sure we can think of something,” Jormungand mumbled, feeling foolish all of a sudden.

The kiss against the back of his neck made him melt into Steve’s touch. “Sarah is a perfect name,” he heard Steve say, and he practically purred when the hand on his belly traveled down to his groin.

The baby was quiet that night.

Jormungand was not.

-          **\- - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - -- - - - - -**

_!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can’t write smut. I try, but it’s always rushed, and I’m sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Ég vil að þú ríða mér – I want you to fuck me.
> 
> ríða, ríða mer, ríða mér erfiðara! – fuck, fuck me, fuck me harder


	11. eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tagged as Loki/Tony and it has been pointed out to me that there has been a severe lack of Frostiron.
> 
> I am sorry, I am not worthy.
> 
> I had plans for Fenrir and Elliot to get some more time in the limelight, but they’re just gonna have to wait, cuz now I’m gonna make up for Loki and Tony being practically nonexistent lately (again, I’m really sorry, I just have a lot of fun playing God with my OCs).  
> This chapter is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.

 

 

 

 

Loki was very happy upon hearing he was going to be a grandfather again.

He was also just the slightest bit jealous.

He was happy for Jormungand and Captain Rogers, and he adored his grandson. Erik was a sweet boy and a joy to have around.

Only . . . .

Some days, Loki would watch his son sit and do school work with Erik, or play a game with him, and as selfish as it was, all Loki could think of was ‘why them and not me?’

Why hadn’t he been given that chance to watch them grow, instead of having to watch each of them be torn away from him? Why did the fates take him away from his Tony and their little girl, instead of letting him be happy and watch Erika grow into the beautiful young woman she’d become?

He’d thought about it, after overhearing a conversation between his youngest son and Captain Rogers, about having more children, and he’d gone to Tony, to drag him away from his work and coax him to bed.

Loki was free from his punishments. Thanos and his other enemies thought him dead, so they wouldn’t be coming after him. He was free to do as he pleased. He would do as he pleased anyway, mind you, but it felt nice being able to do so with no repercussions, and one of the things he wanted was another chance at being a parent. He wanted to actually be there to see them grow.

Loki brought this up with Tony soon after Jormungand announced his pregnancy, while they were down in Tony’s workshop and the inventor was tinkering with a car engine.

“I want a baby,” Loki said with no preamble.

“Give it another couple of months and you’ll have a granddaughter you can spoil rotten,” said Tony, not looking up.

Loki frowned. “I want a baby of my own, you idiot,” he snapped.

“You hated being pregnant,” Tony shot back. “You always bitched about back pain and swollen ankles.”

“Sleipnir was worse, I was stuck as a mare until he was born. At least with Erika, I could actually speak.” Loki wheeled his stool over to Tony. “I want another baby, Anthony,” he said, reaching out to stop Tony’s movements. “I want a chance to do things right.”

Tony paused and sighed, putting his tools down and spinning his own stool to face Loki. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m never gonna win any Father of the Year awards. Forgive me for not wanting to pass on any Daddy Issues that may have escaped our first kid.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you did fine,” Loki scoffed. “She’s reached adulthood, hasn’t she?” He took Tony’s hand, not caring about the grime or engine oil on them. “I mean it, Tony—I want us to try again.”

Tony let out a small sigh. “Give me time to think?” he asked, tilting his head down and looking up at Loki through his eyelashes.

Loki pouted.

“It’s a big decision, Loki,” Tony said defensively. “Just . . . . . two days, okay? Give me two days.”

Loki huffed.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” Tony griped. “You’ll be knocked up by the end of the week, we both know I have trouble telling you ‘no.’”

Loki’s answering smile was smug.

 

 

-          - - - - -- -- - - -- - -- - - -- - - -- -

 

Tony’s two days went by ridiculously fast, in his opinion, and soon Loki had him cornered again with no escape route in sight.

“I gave you the time you asked for,” Loki pressed. “Now it’s your turn to give me something.” He straddled Tony and pulled their mouths together in a bruising kiss.

Tony kissed back just as hard and had his hands on the hem of Loki’s shirt when his brain reminded him that A) They were in the Tower’s main lounge, anyone could walk in, and B) he’d never actually agreed to anything.

Tony put a hand on Loki’s chest and pushed, turning his mouth away. “Mmh, wait, Loki, _wait,”_ he panted, breathless from the kiss. “Jesus, just _wait a minute!_ ”

“I did my waiting!” Loki snapped, trying to pull Tony’s belt buckle open. “You asked for two days, I waited, and now you’re going to give me a baby.”

“For fuck’s sake, can we at least go somewhere private? J.A.R.V.I.S, lock the doors and black out the windows, anyone wanting to get in is gonna have to wait,” he panted when Loki didn’t stop and had his pants pulled open. “Loke, stop, _stop, for fuck’s sake!”_

Loki growled but stilled, glaring at Tony, who gulped.

“Can you not look at me like that while your hands wrapped around my dick, please?” he asked, his throat dry, and he yelped when Loki’s hold on him tightened. “Ouch! Alright, jeez, just . . . just . . . Look, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a dad again, okay? There, I said it! I don’t wanna fuck up again!”

Loki’s glare softened and his grip loosened slightly. “I’ve told you, you’ll be fine,” he sighed. “ _I’ll_ be the one carrying them for nine months, all you have to do is put them there. You and I did fine with Erika, you did fine without me, and you’ll do even better now because you won’t be alone.” He gripped Tony’s chin with his other hand. “I will never leave again, no matter what. Not even the Mad Titan himself will tear us apart.”

The hard grip Loki had on Tony’s cock had eased up and now he was stroking it slowly.

“Please,” Loki said softly. “You know I do not beg, so you know how badly I want this.”

Tony’s previously reluctant penis was slowly growing interested and Tony bit back a moan as Loki’s thumb brushed over the slit.

“Please, Anthony,” Loki sighed, releasing Tony’s chin and leaning forward to touch his forehead to Tony’s. “Let’s start again. Let’s have another baby. Please.”

Tony’s eyes shut. “Not fair,” he muttered, opening his eyes again after only a moment. “How am I supposed to say no to a God when he says ‘please’?” He tilted his head so he could kiss Loki, softer than their usual kisses but still hard enough to leave both of them breathless. “I like you begging,” he said with a hint of a smirk after pulling away. “Do it again.”

Loki snorted. “Don’t push it,” he warned.

“Come on,” Tony goaded. “One more ‘please,’ that’s all I’m asking.

“You’re hardly in a position to negotiate,” Loki challenged, giving Tony’s cock a small squeeze that made Tony’s hips buck. “I could just take what I want.”

Whatever Loki took would be freely given, because Tony always welcomed Loki’s touch. Tony was starved for it, never getting enough, and he’d give Loki the moon if the god asked for it.

Hell, he’d give Loki the moon even if he didn’t ask for it.

“You don’t have to,” Tony said honestly. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” He was feeling slightly light headed, but he meant every word. “So come on, pants off, let’s put a bun in your oven before my balls turn blue.”

Loki scoffed and snapped his fingers, and both of them were suddenly in their room, naked, on his and Loki’s bed.

“I’m going to ride you until I feel your seed take hold,” Loki warned, and Tony’s cock twitched.

“Sounds good,” he croaked, and then he proceeded to hold on for dear life and pray that Loki wouldn’t accidently kill him.

After Tony’s third orgasm Loki kissed him hungrily before letting the mortal catch his breath. “Congratulations,” Loki purred. “You’re going to be a father.”

Tony managed a weak smile, still reeling slightly from his orgasm. “Good to hear. Are we still going, or are you good? Because honestly, I think I need to stop.”

“Is the legendary Tony Stark tired out?” Loki teased.

“The legendary Tony Stark is mortal and not used to consecutive orgasms, Jackass,” Tony wheezed.

Fine, rest,” Loki sighed, stretching out beside Tony and wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist. “I have what I wanted, anyway.” He nuzzled into Tony’s side and murmured. “Thank you, Anthony.”

“My pleasure,” said Tony, cracking a grin. “This kid better appreciate their life, I feel like my heart’s gonna give out.” He shifted on his side and pulled Loki closer. “We’re gonna be parents.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Loki mumbled sleepily.

“Like, I know that was the point, but it just hit me, and honestly I have no idea why I was freaking out, we’re gonna be parents, this is amazing, this is—”

“Anthony.”

“Gonna happen really fast, nine months is _nothing_ , I know we’re already babyproofing everything for Bean Pole’s kid, but now we _definitely_ need to put covers on the outlets, at least, and I gotta remember not to leave tools laying around—”

“ ** _Tony_** _.”_

Tony’s mouth shut with an audible click.

“Sleep now, worry later,” Loki mumbled, shifting again so his face was in the crook of Tony’s neck. “Jormungand’s barely in the beginning of his second trimester, and it’ll be even longer before our little one gets here. You and the others will have plenty of time to make this the safest building on Midgard.”

“Right. Okay.”

A beat.

“So are we getting married before the baby, or after?”

“Anthony Stark, I swear to the Gods I will end you if you do not shut up.”

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - -- - - -- - -- --

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed these two, I’m definitely gonna write more of them :)
> 
> I had a lot of trouble writing the end of this chapter. I don’t know why, smut is a lot easier for me to write now, but I guess these guys decided they didn’t want to be graphic. Idk. *shrugs*
> 
> Another potential OC on the way, sorry not sorry (making people is fun). No idea if the newest munchkin’s a boy or a girl yet, any suggestions?


	12. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did miss writing Tony and Loki, I’m gonna try and write them as much as I can.
> 
> Props to my lovely beta, sperky7220. Love you!

 

-          - - - - -- - -- - -- - -- - - -- -- --

 

 

Tony’s first words to Erika the next morning were, “So, ready to be a big sister?”

Erika paused with a spoonful of oatmeal mid-way to her mouth and gave Tony a questioning look. “Jor’s baby is my _niece_ . . . . .” 

“Yeah, I know,” said Tony, and he was giving Erika a crooked smile that made her suspicious.

 “Have you been drinking again?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“No,” Tony defended, then added, “Well, maybe, but I’m not drunk, I swear.”

“. . . . . what did you do?”

“Do you really wanna know? Cuz I thought you didn’t wanna know anything about your parents’ sex life.”

Erika’s nose scrunched up. “I don’t, what does that have to do . . . . .” she trailed off and her eyes widened, and her jaw went slack. “No _way,”_ she breathed.

Tony’s smile grew into a grin.

“ _No way!”_ Erika stood up fast enough that her chair toppled over, and she ran to Tony (or tried to, anyway) and launched herself at him. “That’s awesome!” she squealed, grinning at him when she pulled away. “Are you sure? Like, one hundred percent sure?”

“Yeah, Pretty sure. Took you long enough, by the way. Maybe we should have J.A.R.V.I.S do an MRI, see if you’ve suffered any recent head trauma.”

“Oh, whatever,” she huffed before letting out a wordless squeal. “ _I’m gonna be a big sister!”_ Her leg locked up on the way back to the table. “Not now, leg, no time,” she muttered, grabbing her cane.

“Don’t push yourself,” Tony warned. “Just because I’ve got another kid coming doesn’t mean the one I already have is allowed to hurt herself.”

“I’m fine,” Erika insisted. “It’s all this rain, it’s just a little stiff. I gotta go tell Jor!” She hobbled towards the kitchen entrance. “Ow.” Step. “Ow.” Step. “Ow.” Step. “Jor! Guess what! Mom’s knocked up, too!” Tony heard her yell out towards the living room where Jormungand was helping Erik with homework.

Bruce and Clint were heading past her into the kitchen and Clint gave Tony a look. “Seriously, Stark? I know you can’t keep it in your pants for more than five seconds, but I thought you were smart enough to wrap it first.”

“This was planned, thank you very much, so kindly take your opinions and shove ‘em up your ass.” Tony sniffed.

“Nah, man, only thing going up there is Tasha’s—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Bruce chimed in, heading for the kitchen table and taking an apple out of the bowl in the middle. “Congratulations, Tony.”

“Thank you. And where are we getting all the fruit from?”

“A magical place called the grocery store,” Bruce offered before taking a bite of apple.

“Tony, don’t be a child, Erik and his sister are enough,” Steve chided, walking in just in time to see Tony stick his tongue out at Bruce.

“He started it,” Tony muttered.

“And now I’m finishing it,” Steve said, looking in the cupboard for something. “Has anyone seen a bottle of prenatal vitamins anywhere?”

“Why, are you not telling us something?” Tony asked innocently. “Cuz I gotta be honest, Cap, with two babies on the way, I don’t know if we can handle any more.”

“They’re for Jormungand, Smart Ass,” Steve shot back, and then he stopped his search and frowned. “Wait, _two_ babies?”

“Loki’s knocked up,” said Clint before Tony could open his mouth, and the inventor glared at him. Clint just smirked.

Steve blinked. “Oh. Congratulations. When did that happen?”

“Last night,” said Tony, beaming.

Bruce frowned. “Wait, so then how do you know he’s pregnant? That’s way too soon to tell.”

Tony shrugged. “Magic? He said he could tell.”

“That’s what Jormungand said about ours,” said Steve. “He and the others, he said they could feel her.”

“Well _that’s_ creepy,” said Clint. “Fuckin’ magic, man—I don’t get it.”

“I just go with it,” said Tony. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna work on seeing if I can’t wheedle my baby mama into getting hitched before the lil guy—or girl—is born.”

He flipped Clint off over his shoulder when the archer made a noise like a cracking whip.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - --

 

Loki was sitting with Jormungand and Erik when they heard Erika in the kitchen, yelling “Jor! Guess what! Mom’s knocked up, too!”

“What’s ‘knocked up’ mean?” Erik asked, looking up from his homework.

“It means your Grandpa Tony and I are having a baby,” said Loki.

“Oh,” said Erik. “Like Mama and Papa?”

“Yes, Little One, just like your mama and papa,” said Loki, smiling at the little boy.

“Is it a boy or a girl? Cuz I’m already getting a sister, so we don’t need _another_ girl,” said Erik, pouting slightly.

Loki chuckled and opened his mouth to reply, but then he frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. “I . . . don’t know.” He looked at Jormungand, who had gone from looking happy to looking concerned.

“Father?” Jormungand asked worriedly just as Erika hobbled into the room.

“We’re getting another sibling, isn’t that great?” Erika asked excitedly, and then she stopped once she saw the worry on her family’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Jormungand. “Father?” he asked again, reaching out to touch Loki’s arm. “Father, what’s wrong?”

Loki had paled and was staring at the opposite wall of the room. “I can’t tell,” he said quietly, his voice strained. He looked from Jormungand to Erika. “The baby . . . . I can’t tell what the gender is. I. . . I can barely feel them at all.”

 “I can’t feel them, either,” said Jormungand.

“Feel what? The baby?” Erika asked. “Like, with magic?”

Jormungand nodded. “Fenrir, Hela and Sleipnir already knew that mine was a girl, they could sense her. We should be able to tell with Father’s, but he’s right, I can barely feel them, and I can’t tell a gender at all . . . .”

“Well, that’s . . . . not good,” said Erika.

“Something’s wrong,” said Loki, sounding shaken. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t feel them, there’s—oh.” His eyes widened, one hand coming up to his stomach. “Oh, there you are,” he breathed. “Oh, hello, _dóttir mín_. “

“I’m getting a sister?” Erika asked.

Loki nodded.

“I’m getting a sister! Where’s Hela, I gotta tell her we’re gonna be big sisters! J.A.R.V.I.S, where’s Hela?”

“ _Miss Hela is currently in the training room with Master Sleipnir. Shall I prepare the elevator?”_ the AI asked.

“Yes, please,” she said, hugging Loki’s neck from behind before limping away.

“She reminds me of Thor.”

Jormungand and Loki started and turned to look behind them. “You need a bell,” Jormungand huffed to Fenrir, whom neither of them had heard come in. “We’ll find you a nice leather collar with flowers on it and put a bell on the front.”

Fenrir’s lip curled. “Try it and you won’t live to raise your daughter,” he warned. To Loki he said, “Congratulations on the little one.”

“We’re getting _more_ girls, Uncle Fenrir,” Erik complained. “I wanted a brother, I don’t want them to be girls.”

“I know, Little One, but it’s not their fault,” he said, coming closer and squatting down so he was level with Erik’s chair. “Never be angry with them for being who they are. You know, that, I hope?” he asked, not missing the look Jormungand gave him.

He’d never been a good brother, and he hoped Erik would treat these girls better than he’d treated Jormungand.

Erik nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good. Now, how about you take a break from that and come with me to the bookstore? I think I found a book you’d like, and they just got a copy.”

Erik’s eyes lit up and he looked from Fenrir to Jormungand. “Can I, Mama?”

Jormungand hesitated; Erik had never gone anywhere alone with Fenrir.

“He’s been at this for hours, let him have a break,” Fenrir said encouragingly. “I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

“Please, Mama?” Erik begged.

“Oh, fine,” Jormungand huffed. “Go on, then.”

“’Kay!” Erik said excitedly. “Thank you, Mama! Come on, Uncle, Fenrir, I think Auntie Erika’s friend is working there today,” he said, sliding out of his seat and running towards the elevator. “I’ll get my shoes on!” he called, and then he was in the elevator.

Fenrir had gone red at the mention of ‘Auntie Erika’s friend’ and Jormungand didn’t even bother trying to hold in his laughter. “Is that why you’re taking him?” he chuckled. “Too scared to speak to your _lítið kerti_ yourself?”

“Don’t start,” Fenrir growled.

“Oh, but it’s such a cute nickname, I’m _so_ glad you told me,” Jormungand sniggered.

“I am _never_ drinking around you again,” Fenrir muttered.

Loki looked between his sons before settling his gaze on Fenrir. “Do I want to know?” he asked his second eldest.

“Fenrir has a crush on a pole dancer who also happens to work at Erik’s favorite bookstore,” Jormungand said before Fenrir could say anything, his teasing smile widening into a grin as Fenrir’s face reddened even more.

“ _Jormungand_!”

The elevator dinged and Erik came running out. “Kay, I’m ready! Let’s go! Bye Mama, bye Grandpa Loki!” he gripped Fenrir’s hand and pulled him towards the elevator, and Fenrir gave Jormungand one last glare before following Erik into the elevator.

“Say hello to Elliot for me!” Jormungand called out before the elevator doors shut.

Fenrir’s answer as the doors closed would earn him a smack from Jormungand when they got back for using bad language around Erik.

“I didn’t know he was attracted to men . . .”

“Neither did he.”

 

 

-          - - - - -- - - -- - - --- - - -- - - -- -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Fenrir, I‘m picking on him so much. Is so fun, though, and I don‘t think the subject of Fenrir‘s sexuality has ever come up in front of Loki. I‘m not sure, though, I should probably double check . . . . . . .
> 
>  
> 
> dóttir mín – my daughter
> 
> lítið kerti – little candle


	13. thirteen

It only took a week for everyone to figure out that Loki and his children were only able to sense his baby when Fenrir was near.

Nobody knew why, but if Fenrir wasn’t around, they could only just sense her, like a radio station with bad reception.

“Aw, she already likes you,” Erika teased her brother once they found this out.

Fenrir’s nose scrunched up. “Not a very good judge of character, is she?”

“Oh, hush,” Hela said, giving him a swat on the arm.

Fenrir gave her a dirty look but said nothing.

 

 

-          - - - - - - -  - -- - - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -

 

Jormungand had been having trouble sleeping lately.

He shifted in bed for what felt like the thousandth time and rested a hand on his belly. _“Please, Little One,”_ he murmured. _“Let me sleep, for Odin’s sake.”_

His answer was a hard kick and he whined, shifting again and rubbing where she was kicking.

“Jor? You okay?” he heard Steve mumble sleepily beside him.

“ _She won’t stop kicking_ ,” Jormungand whined.

He loved his little Sarah, he would die for her, but he hadn’t more than a handful of hours’ sleep in the past week and he was starting to feel frayed around the edges.

_“I just want to sleep.”_

Steve shifted in bed and pulled his husband close, placing one of his hands on Jormungand’s belly and humming softly. “Come on, Baby, time for bed. Let Mama sleep,” he said quietly. “You’ve still got a while before you can come out, so let’s try and make it as comfortable for your Mama as we can, okay?”

As soon as she heard Steve’s voice, she stopped kicking, and Jormungand almost sobbed with relief.

He was able to get more sleep that night than he had in a while.

 

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - -- - - -- --- - - - -- -- - -

 

 

 

 

Erika decided to go through some of her old stuff to see if there was anything of hers she could give the baby.

Also, she needed to get rid of stuff. Seriously. There was entire room full of boxes that she hadn’t looked through in _forever_.

“Jesus, I have a lot of stuff,” she muttered, pulling another box towards her.

“What are these?”

Erika looked behind her, where Sleipnir was sifting through a box of books.

An entire tower full of people, and he was the only one with any spare time to help her do this.

Go figure.

“Oh,” said Erika, squinting at the cover of the book her brother was holding up. “I think those are my old college books.”

Sleipnir thumbed through the book, frowning slightly. “What’s a College?”

Erika laughed. “It’s a place, people go there to learn about what they want to do with their life. My dad has a degree in Engineering because he wanted to build things for a living.”

“So it’s an academy, then. What’s your degree?”

“Art,” she replied. “Well, Art and Music, with a minor in Engineering.” And wasn’t it funny when people found out Tony Stark’s daughter only had a minor in a field where she could be one of the best.

Sleipnir kept thumbing through the pages of the book. “Can you learn _anything?_ ”

Erika nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Can anyone go?”

Erika blinked. “Uh, yeah, if they really wanted to. Some people can’t afford it, though, and they have to take on loans or earn grants and scholarships.” She’d never had to, obviously, but she’d met quite a few people during her time there that were going to be swimming in debt by the time they graduated. “It’s a lot of work, though—it’s all pretty easy, but there’s a lot to do.” She paused, then asked hesitantly. “Is this something you’d want to do?”

Sleipnir looked like Christmas had come early. “Yes, please.”

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Erika asked as Sleipnir looked through a list of available degrees from the local college.

“Yeah,” he said, still looking.

He ended up picking photography, and oddly enough, Erika thought it was a good fit.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - -- - - -- - - - -- - - - -- - -

 

 

Jormungand was only eight and a half months along when his daughter decided that she was ready to be born. He was in the middle of waddling to the couch with a fruit drink in one hand and a book in the other when intense pain made him cry out and drop the drink and book. The glass shattered as it hit the floor and he cried out again as another wave of pain hit.

_“Master Lokison, are you alright?”_ J.A.R.V.I.S sounded.

“The baby,” Jormungand managed to hiss between clenched teeth. “J.A.R.V.I.S, the baby—” he gasped pitifully, falling to his hands and knees.

“ _I’ve alerted Dr. Banner and the tower Paramedics, they’ll be here shortly. I’m .  . . . sorry, I would do something more to help, but I’m afraid my abilities are limited.”_

Jormungand whined again. “Not . . . your fault. . . .” he managed to stutter. Another shock of pain made him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. It hurt, gods, Erik hadn’t hurt this much . . . .

Dr. Banner got to him first and tried to help him off of the floor; there was glass everywhere. Paramedics came soon after.

All Jormungand could thing was ‘it shouldn’t hurt this much.’

 

-          - - - - -- - - ---  -- -- - - --

 

“Seriously, Steve, stop pacing before you wear a hole in the floor.”

Steve stopped his pacing and frowned at Tony. “You’ll be doing the same thing when your daughter’s born,” he challenged.

Tony scoffed. “I don’t pace.”

“According to James, you did nothing but pace while I was having Erika,” said Loki.

Tony shot his fiancée a dirty look. “Tattletale,” he muttered.

Loki just gave him an innocent smile.

“Since when are you and Rhodey on a first-name basis, anyway?” Tony asked.

“We’re not; he and Lorna were.”

“Is it normal that it’s taking so long?” Steve worried out loud.

“Yup,” said Tony, popping the p. “Erika took _forever_ to get here.”

“ _You’re_ not the one that had to give birth,” Loki muttered. To Steve, he said, “Giving birth is a long and painful process, Captain—your daughter will cone when she’s ready.”

Steve let out a small huff of air. “Right. Okay.”

A shriek from the other room made them jump and they heard Jormungand yell something in Old Norse.

Loki chuckled.

“What did he say?” Steve asked.

“He said if you ever try and have sex with him without a condom again, he’s going to rip your cock off.”

Steve gulped.

Tony cringed. “Ooh, better wrap it next time, Cap.”

Steve’s retort was cut short when a worn looking Bruce came into the room.

He didn’t look like he had good news.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

Bruce hesitated.

“Bruce, what happened?” Steve demanded.

“ . . . . Steve, I’m . . . . .” He paused, and he looked miserable. He took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye.

“Neither one of them are going to make it.”

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - --  - -- - - - ---- - - - - - - --

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a despicable human being, and I am sorry.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much planned, there’s so little to do and so much time!!!!
> 
> . . . . . .
> 
> Strike that, reverse it.
> 
> Recognizable characters belong to Marvel.

 

-          **\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -- -**

 

 

Bruce wasn’t a doctor—he had a doctorate in biochemistry and nuclear physics. People kept looking to him for medical help, though, and he knew enough from working as a to-go doctor in third world countries.

Still, he wished people understood that he never went to medical school, his knowledge came from the degrees he’d actually earned.

You didn’t really need a medical degree to help deliver a baby, though, and Bruce had lost count of how many babies he’d helped bring into the world.

He’d also lost count of the number of stillborn and babies born with a very small chance for survival, and it never got any easier.

Sarah Frigga Rogers was born two weeks early. She was too small, too frail, and she didn’t cry when she came out. She wasn’t moving, she was barely breathing.

Jormungand had lost consciousness moments after she came out.

Bruce didn’t think either one of them would last the night.

 “Tony’s got the best doctor here, they’re doing everything they can, but . . . . Jormungand, he’s barely breathing, and Sarah . . . . Steve, I’m really sorry.”

Steve looked shell-shocked and Loki looked like he might pass out himself. “My son,” the mage said quietly, and Bruce cringe at the raw emotion in his voice. “ _strákurinn minn_.“

The last time he‘d seen Loki so heartbroken had been after Erika‘s kidnapping.

Loki buried his face in Tony‘s shirt and Tony wrapped an arm around him. “There‘s nothing you can do?“ Tony asked his friend.

“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t look good,” Bruce repeated. “They’re barely alive, and they’re only getting worse. Like I said, we’re doing everything we can . . . . .”

Steve looked like he might pass out and Loki was trembling. Tony didn’t bother with reassuring words, he only rubbed his hand up and down Loki’s back while trying to choke back his own grief—he’d grown fond of Loki’s kids, and losing one of them was hurting him, too.

“I’m going to go see if there’s something we missed, anything that can help,” Bruce said quietly. “If there’s a way to save them.  . . . . .”

Steve didn’t respond at first, but he seemed to shake himself out of it. “Thank you,” he croaked. “Really, Bruce, thank you for trying to help. I’m . . . I’m glad you’re here.”

Bruce gave him a weak smile before retreating from the room, leaving the three of them alone again.

 “Well, they’re not dead yet,” Tony offered, phrasing it almost like a question. Loki’s grip on Tony tightened and he made a choked sound that sounded like a growl. “Okay, sorry,” Tony said quickly. “Just trying to look on the bright side.”

“My son and granddaughter are on their deathbeds, and if you don’t shut up you’ll be joining them,” Loki warned, still clinging to Tony and trying (and failing) not to cry. He didn’t pull away from Tony, though.

“Sorry,” Tony muttered.

Hela and Sleipnir were in the common room with Clint and Natasha, Bucky, and Sam, getting it ready for a ‘you’re kinda early, but welcome anyway!’ party for Sarah. Erika, Erik, and Fenrir were out getting a cake; they’d be back soon.

Somebody had to tell them.

 

-          - - - - - -- - - - -- - -

 

Jormungand’s magic was healing him, they found out.

He’d be fine.

Sarah died an hour after she was born.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is destroying lives so much fun???
> 
>  
> 
> strákurinn minn – my boy


	15. fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are two ways Sarah’s arc could have gone. The first version was that she didn’t really die and was switched with another baby by a Hydra agent and raised to be a Black Widow-like assassin. This is the version I thought of while I was daydreaming in the shower.

 

-          - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - -- -

Erika found Steve in the medical wing’s waiting room long after Tony and Loki left. “How is he?” she asked.

Dumb question, she knew, but she couldn’t take the words back.

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. “Remember the story Thor told us about when he was banished here and woke up in the hospital?”

Erika winced.

Steve looked miserable. There were rings under his eyes, which were bloodshot, and his hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb since before this started. It would definitely be stupid to ask how _he_ was doing, so instead Erika lowered herself in the chair next to his and placed her hand over his.

Steve looked up and Erika gave him a shaky smile. He tried to return it, but he couldn’t find the energy. He just sat there while she leaned against him and tried to offer silent support.

 

-          - - - - - - -- - - - - -- -  -- -

 

_“Erik, you need to stay with Fenrir for right now.”_

_“Where’s Momma and Sarah? Are we still having the party?”_

_“. . . . No, Buddy, we’re not having the party. Just . . . . stay with your uncle.”_

Erik slipped away as soon as his uncle’s back was turned.

There was something in his head telling him where to go. It was like someone was whispering to him, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

He found the room where his sister had been taken. It was brightly lit and full of people—doctors. They were all talking to each other and writing things down on clipboards. One of them was standing over an incubator.

The whispering was almost deafening.

The lump he could see inside the glass was his sister, he realized.

She wasn’t moving.

‘ _She’s dead,’_ the voices whispered, suddenly crystal clear.

Erik stared at the incubator.

_‘You can save her.’_

What could he do? She was already dead, and nothing could change that.

‘ _Focus on her. Think about her waking up.’_

“She’s not asleep,” Erik muttered. He stared long and hard at the little lump of flesh inside the incubator.

Nothing happened.

A doctor noticed him and came outside the room. “Hey, Little Man, where’s your mommy and daddy?” he asked.

He looked like he was almost as tall as Erik’s Papa, with the same blond hair and blue eyes. He looked a bit like Grandpa Loki at the same time.

“Come on, Champ, this is no place for you,” the man said, offering his hand. “Let’s find your parents.”

The whispering inside of Erik’s head went silent as soon as he took the doctor’s hand and there was the unmistakable sound of a baby’s cries coming from the well lit room.

 

-          - - - - - - - - -- -- - - - - - -

 

“ _Why is she alive?!”_

_“I-I’m not sure. She was dead, I’m sure of it, she wasn’t breathing—”_

_“Well, she’s breathing now! Banner and Stark’s doctors ran every test under the sun, aside from being very small, she’s perfectly healthy.”_

_A gulp._

_“Now why is that, I wonder, when I was sure you were periodically poisoning her?”_

_“I-I was, I gave him the vitamins, Banner said he was taking them.”_

_“Keep making excuses, see what I do. I don’t care how you do it, but I want that baby taken care of. Do you understand me?”_

_“Y-yes sir.”_

_“Very good.” A pause, then “Hail Hydra.”_

_“H-hail Hydra.”_

-          _\- - - - - - - - - --- - -_

 

**_SIX MONTHS LATER_ **

Loki was sitting up in the main sitting room with his three month old daughter when the elevator dinged and Fenrir and Erik came out. Loki’s daughter immediately began squirming in his grip and reached her arms out.

Fenrir’s eyes widened comically when he realized Loki and the baby were in the room and he moved to go back to the elevator.

“You know if you leave now, she’ll start crying,” Loki warned.

Fenrir groaned. “ _Why me?_ Out of _everyone_ , why me?”

“I didn’t have an answer for you the first thousand times, and nothing’s changed. Please come hold her before she has an aneurysm,” Loki sighed, shifting the baby in his arms.

Fenrir sighed but went to the couch, flopping down beside Loki and holding his arms out impatiently.

Maria Virginia Stark had been fond of her big brother since before she was born. She would always kick and move inside of Loki when Fenrir was around, and only when he was around could the tower’s magic users Sense her.

Little Maria cooed happily as she was carefully transferred from her mother’s arms to her brother’s.

“How was your date?” Loki asked after several moments.

Fenrir’s face flushed. “It wasn’t a date,” he muttered.

“Uncle Fenrir finally asked him out,” said Erik from Fenrir’s other side, climbing onto the couch to watch Maria try and pull Fenrir’s hair.

Fenrir’s face grew a darker shade of red.

Loki tilted his head. “And?” he prompted.

“They’ve got a lunch date next week,” said Erik.

“I miss the Erik that was scared of me,” Fenrir muttered. “He didn’t have such a big mouth.”

“At least I didn’t wait a million years to ask someone on a date,” said Erik before sticking his tongue out at Fenrir.

“Boys, behave,” Loki sighed.

Maria squirmed in Fenrir’s arms, reaching for Loki. Fenrir handed her over and she snuggled happily in her mother’s arms.

“She’s still really little,” said Erik, climbing over Fenrir to sit between him and Loki. “How long before she’s big enough to play games with?”

“She’s only three months old, it’ll be a while,” Loki chuckled. “Besides, I though you wanted another boy to play games with?”

Erik shrugged. “I got two girls instead, and Mom’s always watching Sarah like a hawk.”

Loki frowned slightly. “Your mother’s just worried,” he told Erik. “He doesn’t want something to happen to her.”

“Yeah, but she’s fine,” said Erik. “Dad says she does normal baby stuff she’s supposed to do at her age, but Mom’s always hovering, and he never lets me hold her. At least you let me hold Maria sometimes.”

This was true. Jormungand was constantly watching his daughter, and he wouldn’t let anyone else hold her or watch her—not even her father. It helped that she wasn’t a particularly fussy child, but everyone was still worried that he was pushing himself.

The elevator dinged again and a grease and grime stained Tony came out.

“The Beast emerges,” said Loki. “Now that you’ve finished with your three day Science binge, I hope you’ll do the wise thing and get some rest. Shower first, though—I don’t want all of that slime in our bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered, resting his hands on his lower back and bending backwards. He let out a grunt of relief as something in his back popped. “Ohh, that’s been driving me bananas. How’s Jellybean?”

Maria cooed happily and reached for her father, but Loki gave Tony a look that said ‘touch her with those dirty hands and you will perish.’

“Hey, Baby Girl,” Tony sighed, squatting down in front of a sitting Loki. “Lemme clean up, then I’ll come back and give you proper fatherly cuddles.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Loki. “You’ll clean up, eat, and then catch up on the three nights of sleep you’ve missed.”

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Tony griped, standing back up. “Jesus, my back is killing me.” He sighed heavily. “Getting old _sucks_. Not that you would know, Mister ‘immortal ageless being.’”

As soon as the words left Tony’s mouth, he wished he hadn’t said anything, because Loki went from looking annoyed to looking hurt.

“Sorry,” Tony muttered. “I’ll just . . . go and wash this gunk off.” He slunk back to the elevator without a word.

Fenrir looked between his father and the elevator. “He’s still refusing the Apple, isn’t he?”

Loki nodded.

The subject of Tony’s age had come up several times, and Loki had mentioned each time that there was a solution to that—Idunn’s Golden Apples. Each time, though, Tony had refused to allow Loki to procure one for him, saying he didn’t want to stay the same while everyone he loved grew old and died. Loki made the argument that Erika was aging much slower than was normal for mortals, and Maria was bound to be the same way—Like Loki, they would have to watch him wither before their eyes.

Tony still refused every time, and every time it was mentioned now it hurt both of them.

Loki was going to lose him if he didn’t do something.


	16. sixteen

**'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**  
You know it used to be mad love  
So take a look what you've done  
'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood

Erika downed her fifth shot and slammed the glass back on the counter, signaling for another.

“You okay?” the bartender asked.

“Fine,” she said. “I just need another drink.”

Her brother was going to end up in an early grave if he didn’t let someone help with Sarah. Her parents were fighting about Tony’s mortality, and Loki kept using her and Maria’s longer lifespans against him.

If she wanted another drink, she was going to have another damn drink. Anyone who chewed her out for her recent habit of excessive drinking could fuck off.

“Whoa, take it easy, Princess. The liquor’s not going anywhere.”

“Fuck off, Hammer, “Erika snarled.

Aiden Hammer took the seat beside her and signaled the bartender for the same drink Erika was having. “Ooh, hostile,” he crooned. “Trouble in your Ivory Tower?”

Erika snorted. “You’re one to talk—you’ve got a silver spoon lodged so far up your ass you can probably taste it. I mean it, Aiden—beat it.”

“Free country,” he shot back. “I can have a drink if I want.”

Erika rolled her eyes before downing the shot the barkeep placed in front of her. Aiden was looking at the empty shot glasses in front of her and he gave her a nasty smirk. “Looks like Daddy’s not the only alcoholic in the family.”

“I should have let the other universe keep you.”

“Come on, you’re not still mad about that, are you?” Aiden scoffed.

Erika glared at him. “Never said that,” She said curtly

“Hey, we got home okay, didn’t we?” Aiden defended.

“Yes, yes we did. No thanks to you I might add.”

Aiden shrugged. “Like I knew what was going to happen? Please,” he scoffed.

**Now we got problems**  
And I don't think we can solve them  
You made a really deep cut  
And, baby, now we got bad blood

 

Erika sighed before turning on him, “I swear, if there wasn’t a bar full of witnesses, I would _snap your fucking neck.”_

“Talk’s cheap, Princess,” Aiden said, smirking. “I wonder what you’d really do if we were alone.”

Five minutes later, they were in the alley behind the bar. Erika had Aiden pinned to the wall, her hand around his throat.

“Do it,” he croaked.

She squeezed harder.

“Fucking do it. I _dare_ you.”

“Fucking Hell, _do you ever shut up?”_ Erika yelled before kissing him roughly, her hand still wrapped around his throat. It was violent, just like all their verbal interactions, all tongue and teeth, and Erika’s other hand slid into Aiden’s light brown hair and gripped it firmly. One of Aiden’s hands tangled into her hair and the other gripped her waist, and she could feel his cock straining against her thigh. She pushed against it and he groaned. Moments later their roles were reversed and she was trapped against the wall while Aiden was grinding against her. He unbuttoned her jeans and stuck his hand in her panties to palm her.

Erika bit his lower lip when his fingers started pushing inside. She did her best to kick her heels off and shimmy out of her pants and underwear while still kissing him and she unbuttoned his own pants and yanked them down. His underwear went next and his cock sprang free, long and hard. She felt a rush of heat in her lower belly as she let go of his neck and grabbed his cock instead.

Aiden’s fingers were probing deeper inside her and she batted his hand away, lining his cock up with her entrance and guiding it in inch by inch. Ignoring the pain in her bad leg, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. He was balls deep and already moving his hips and she made a whining noise when he started biting her neck.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he moaned between bites. “Don’t get out much, do you?”

“None of your fucking business,” she shot back, her body rocking with every one of his thrusts; he was stronger than he looked, and her back kept hitting the wall, hard. One of his hands found their way up her shirt and was squeezing one of her breasts and pinching the nipple. He bit down on her neck particularly hard and gave a muffled groan as her walls clenched around his aching cock.

“What would Daddy say,” he panted. “About me fucking his little Princess.”

Erika clenched around his cock on purpose and he bit down harder in retaliation.

“Talk about him one more time and you can finish on your own,” Erika spat, dragging him up for another dirty kiss. Her nails dug into his back and he pinched her nipple harder, and both of them came within seconds of each other. Erika moaned into the kiss, her orgasm rolling over her and leaving her breathless. They broke apart and Aiden leaned heavily against her, his spent cock slipping out of her.

Erika recovered before he did. She set her legs back down and twisted out of his grip so he slumped against the wall, and she gathered her discarded panties and jeans. Before pulling them all the way up, she reached between her legs to gather some cum dripping down her thigh. She crouched down in front of Aiden, licked his cum off of her fingers, and then gave him one last kiss. “You’re still an asshole, but at least you’re a good fuck,” she purred before straightening up and pulling her underwear and jeans all the way up. She slipped on her heels, casting a small numbing spell on her leg so she wouldn’t limp. “Later, Jackass,” she called over her shoulder before strutting away.

So what if she’d just let her worst enemy fuck her in a back alley? Honestly, it felt good to just let go, and right now she felt like she was queen of the fucking universe.

No wonder Tony had been such a slut—it felt _awesome_.

 

**Now we got problems**  
And I don't think we can solve them  
You made a really deep cut  
And, baby, now we got bad blood


	17. seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot and Fenrir’s first date! I had this written out forever ago, but I’ve been jumping around a lot plot wise lately and I didn’t know where to put this. At first I was gonna have the whole ‘ask him out’ thing included, but I couldn’t find the right way to do it, so instead I just mentioned they had a date, and now they shall go on said date :)
> 
> It’s been forever since I did anything with these two, I almost forgot about them and I feel really bad about that.

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Elliot was a bundle of nerves and all he would tell Kate was that he had a date. He didn’t say who it was with though, and he was thinking that maybe he should have.

Around 1:30, there was a knock on the door.

Elliot heard Kate’s “I’ll get it!” from the bathroom, followed by the sound of footsteps and the door being opened, and then--

“Oh, HELL no! Showing up to someone’s work place is one thing, but you’ve got some goddamn _nerve_ showing your skeezy face around here! I’m calling the fucking cops!”

Elliot inhaled sharply.

_Shit!_

“No, don’t!” Elliot called, rushing out of the bathroom and grabbing the phone out of Kate’s hand just as he heard ‘911, what’s your emergency?’ on the other end. “Sorry, I dialed the wrong number,” he told the operator before hanging up. “What the _hell_ , Kate?” he asked, staring at his best friend-and-now-roommate.

“Why did you do that?” Kate demanded. “This creep is _stalking_ you, Lee! He found out where you live!”

“Yeah, because I told him!”

Kate’s eyes widened. It was almost comical.

Elliot sighed. He gave Fenrir a nervous smile. “You’re kinda early—I’m not quite ready yet. Do you mind hanging out until I’m done?”

Fenrir shook his head, glancing at Kate nervously.

“Okay, I swear I’ll be ready in, like, ten minutes, fifteen tops!” To Kate, he said, “Try not to scare him off, please.”

Kate glared at Fenrir. “He can wait out there, I ain’t lettin’ him in!”

Elliot sighed, but couldn’t help but smile when Fenrir wordlessly sat down by the wall opposite to Kate’s door. Kate practically slammed the door shut before rounding on Elliot. “ _Why is he here?_ ” she demanded.

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “You do know what a date is, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, but why are you going on a date with your stalker?” Kate huffed. “And why didn’t you tell me it was with him?”

“I didn’t want you freaking out,” Elliot sighed, going back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. “It’s just a lunch date, Kate, it’s not like I’m engaged. Besides, he’s not a stalker—he understands what the word ‘No’ means. Would eyeliner be too much?”

“Just don’t do any cat eyes, that’s a little much for a first date,” said Kate, switching overprotective sister to best friend mode. “Outlining the bottoms can’t hurt, though.” She crossed her arm and leaned against the doorframe. “Lee, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Elliot refrained from sighing. “No, Kate, it’s a horrible idea, I haven’t thought this through at all,” he deadpanned.

“No one likes a smartass,” she sniffed. “Seriously, though—please be careful. If he tries anything, taser his ass.”

“Yes, _mom.”_

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

They went to a diner down the street from Kate’s apartment complex, where she and Elliot would meet up for lunch if they didn’t feel like a coffee day.

“Hey, Lee!” the waitress, a bubbly blonde named Anne greeted as he and Fenrir entered the diner.

Elliot returned the smile. “Hey, Anne.”

“Go ahead and have a seat, your usual table’s open, I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said, refilling an older gentleman’s coffee mug.

Elliot led Fenrir to a booth by the front window and they slid into the vinyl seats. “You’re gonna love the food here, Kate introduced me to this place when I moved here and it’s been my favorite place to eat,” said Elliot as Anne brought over two menus.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked cheerfully.

“Oh, um, Anne, this is Fenrir. Fenrir, Anne.”

Anne stuck her hand out for Fenrir to shake and he hesitated before taking her hand gently in his and kissing the back of it.

Anne blushed and giggled. “Oh, I _like_ him!” she gushed. “You want the usual, Lee?”

Elliot nodded.

“Kay, I’ll give your boy time to look over the menu. In the meantime, coffee, coke, water, or tea?”

“Coffee,” Elliot and Fenrir said at the same time.

Anne snorted. “Coffee in stereo, got it.” She gave Elliot a knowing smile and winked at Fenrir before wandering away.

“Sorry,” Elliot muttered when she was out of earshot. “She can be a bit much.”

Fenrir didn’t really mind. “So, what’s good here?”

He ended up ordering a chicken fried steak while Elliot got his bacon cheeseburger and fries. “This is one of the only things I allow myself to enjoy,” Elliot admitted. “I always make sure to work off the calories, but I try not to eat like this a lot. How’s your food?”

Fenrir had a mouthful of food, so he gave Elliot a simple thumbs up. He had the whole thing demolished within minutes and looked somewhat embarrassed when Elliot just gaped at him. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I eat a lot.”

“I never would have guessed,” Elliot said dryly after a few seconds. “You’re built like a tank, your metabolism must be record breaking.”

Fenrir mumbled something about ‘runs in the family,’ and took a drink of coffee.

Elliot was suddenly aware of how slow of an eater he was and how big his burger was, and he opted instead to pick at his fries. “Here, try these—they’re the best fries in the city.”

As first dates go, it wasn’t that bad. The only bad part was the elderly couple across the diner that wouldn’t stop giving them the stink eye.

“Leave it,” Elliot sighed when Fenrir asked if he should go over there. “It’s fine—I’m used to it.

An absolutely _awful_ idea came to mind and Elliot smirked slightly. “Besides, I know just how to handle them, if you don’t mind paying a little extra for dessert.”

 

 

-          - - - - - - -- - - - - - -- - - --

 

Leroy and Susan Edenburoh had been coming to the same diner for lunch every Saturday for the last thirty years. They were upstanding, law abiding folks, and they went to Sunday mass and Confession regularly—not that they had anything _to_ confess, mind you. They believed firmly in following the way of the Lord and living by His Scripture.

Well, you can just _imagine_ their horror as their Saturday lunch was interrupted when some hulking brute of a man and his clearly queer companion took a booth that was in their direct line of sight. Why, Leroy had half a mind to go and smack the little Fairy until he Straightened out, but Susan reminded him that only God shall judge, and that the queers’ punishment shall come in time and shall be just. They shall be turned away on Judgement day to suffer the consequence of their choice.

Still, they had some nerve coming into a family establishment—there were children here, for goodness sake!

“The larger one—he’s one of those Avengers, isn’t he?” Susan whispered. “Him and those other perverts on that team of alleged ‘heroes’ are going to corrupt today’s youth!”

Sure enough, a young boy had scampered up to the perverts’ table, asking for the brute’s autograph.

  _Disgusting_.

“I think I’ll skip dessert today, Dear—I’ve lost my appetite,” Susan sniffed, and Leroy nodded his agreement. Before he could flag down the waitress, though, the redhead caught her attention. He spoke in a soft tone and gestured towards Leroy and Susan’s table, and the waitress smiled and nodded before going back towards the kitchen. She came back out with two plates of some kind of pie and set them down in front of the elderly couple.

“Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Edenburoh—today’s specialty dessert, compliments of those two gentlemen,” she said, nodding towards the queers. “Would you like the check for your meal?”

Leroy nodded, confused, and the waitress hurried off again. Susan looked at the dessert in front of her and her eyes widened as she remembered what Saturday’s special was. Her head snapped up towards the little pervert, who rested an elbow on the table and set his chin on his hand, holding his other hand up and wiggling his fingers at Susan. He smirked at her, and then took a big bite of his own plate of the diner’s special.

“I think I’m going to be ill,” she muttered weakly, pushing her plate away from her.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - -- - -- -- - - -- -- -- -- - -

 

 

“You’re horrible,” said Fenrir as he watched the elderly couple pay their check and hurry out the door, leaving their complimentary cobblers untouched.

“Like I said, I’m used to bigots,” said Elliot. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that a soft word and a kind gesture can scare them off faster than a threat ever could.”

Fenrir pushed a bit of cobbler around on his plate. “Is there a reason you picked this to give them?”

Elliot swallowed his mouthful of pie. “It’s berry cobbler.”

Fenrir didn’t look like he got the joke.

“ _Fruit_ cobbler.’”

‘There we go,’ Elliot though as understanding dawned on the other man, and he just smiled around a mouthful of pie when Fenrir repeated, “Oh, you’re _horrible_.”

The bigots were the only bump in an otherwise smooth date. They talked on the way back to Kate’s apartment.

Well, Elliot talked, anyway. Fenrir learned that Elliot’s last name was Renard, and he offered his own when prompted.

“So your name’s Fenrir Lokison,” Elliot repeated. “Sounds really Norse. Well, I mean, you’re named after the wolf from the myths—at least, I’m assuming you are.”

“Something like that,” Fenrir muttered.

“Do you have any kids? If you do and they’re boys, please tell me you took the opportunity and named themSköll and Hati.”

Fenrir snorted. “No,” he said shortly. “No kids.” He didn’t even _know_ where that part of the myths had come from, honestly; the written eddas were hit or miss sometimes, and they’d missed with that one.

Fenrir learned that Elliot was originally from Colorado and he’d basically hitchhiked to New York. He learned that he’d been in school, but had to drop out for financial reasons.

He’d been studying to be a teacher.

“I love kids,” Elliot told him. “They can be brats, but they can also be so sweet.”

“Do you want any?” Fenrir asked.

“Oh, I’ll probably adopt one or two, one day,” said Elliot.

Fenrir had a sudden picture in his mind, of a little boy and girl with his eyes and Elliot’s pale skin and copper hair. He blinked, and the image was gone.

‘Don’t get attached,’ his mind whispered. ‘He’s mortal; you’ll blink, and he’ll be gone.’

“—about you? Do you want kids?”

Fenrir snapped back to the preset. “I have a nephew that I’ll watch on occasion. He’s . . . . he can be a handful at times, and his level of energy is astounding for someone his size. I have no doubt his sister will be just as energetic. Taking care of him is a learning experience, and . . . and I don’t think I’d mind having one of my own.”

Elliot hmm’d “Adoption or biological?”

“Either one, I suppose. Most likely adoption, just because there are so many who need a family.”

They reached Kate’s building and Elliot looked down at his feet before looking up at Fenrir through his eyelashes. “So, this was fun. I’ll . . . . um, I’ll call you,” he said before darting forward, reaching on tip toes to give Fenrir a quick kiss.

Fenrir blinked, and Elliot was already disappearing inside the building.

‘He’s mortal,’ his subconscious reminded him. ‘Don’t get attached.’

Fenrir told his subconscious to go fuck itself.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m skipping around POV wise, I write like that, I’m sorry. I’m in the middle of writing a big thing for Erika and the last chapter was kind of a set-up for that, but I had to publish this cuz I’ve had it written out since forever ago.
> 
> Sköll and Hati are the Norse Mythology Fenrir’s children, here’s a link to a page about them, just take out the spaces.
> 
> H t t p : / / w w w . n o r t h e r n p a g a n I s m . o r g / s h r I n e s / f e n r I r / w r I t I n g / t h e – s o n s – o f – f e n r I r – h a t I – a n d – s k o l l . h t m l


	18. eighteen

Charity balls weren’t fun anymore, Erika thought to herself as she stood off to the side and sipped a champagne flute. She shifted her weight, trying to ease weight onto her uninjured leg. All she had at the moment was a brace and a numbing spell, because for some reason, she didn’t want to be seen with a cane at the moment.

She couldn’t even dance anymore, not really.

“Why the long face, Princess?”

Erika sighed in exasperation. “What do you want, Hammer?”

Aiden gave her a look of mock hurt as he picked up his own champagne flute from a passing waiter. “Still using last names? That hurts, Stark. I thought we had something special.”

Erika rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Pretty Boy,” she sniffed.

For a split second, Erika could have sworn Aiden looked hurt by her words. It passed quickly, though, and he gave her his usual slimy smirk. “Your loss, Princess. I’ll be here all night, if you change your mind.” He gave her a wink before wandering back into the crowd.

Tony found her later and asked if the Hammer brat was bothering her.

She told him not to worry about it, and when they went home she definitely didn’t tell him that she’d taken Aiden up on his offer.

Sex in a coat closet was _not_ as fun as movies made it look.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -

 

 

The party was just the start of a long list of moments where Erika found herself taking Aiden up on his offers of quick fucks. Charity balls, hotel rooms during conferences, even in one of her dad’s own company buildings (HammerTech was trying to pitch an idea to Stark Industries. They didn’t buy it, to absolutely nobody’s surprise, and Tony vowed to never show up again if Justin Fucking Hammer kept pushing for a merger).

Fenrir asked her about it, once—about the other person he could smell on her. There was nobody else around and Erika politely told him to mind his own damn business.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -

Someone must have gotten it through Jormungand’s thick skull that Sarah was safe with the rest of them, because the next time Erika saw her half-brother and the baby, he was sleeping on the couch while Steve watched cartoons with Sarah.

He looked peaceful for the first time since Sarah’s birth.

“How long has he been asleep?” she asked.

“About six hours ago,” said Steve.

“That’s the longest he’s slept in a long time,” she said, clearly relieved. “How did you manage to convince him she’d be okay? And have you been watching cartoons with her for that whole time?”

“We’re taking shifts,” said Steve. “Natasha and I just switched, and before that Bruce was sitting with her.”

Erika noticed he didn’t answer her first question.

There was no way her brother—who’d been refusing anyone’s help for the past eight months—would suddenly just hand Sarah over and take a nap. She almost asked him what he’d done to make Jormungand sleep, but decided against it—Steve wouldn’t hurt him.

“What’s on?” she asked instead.

“Adventure Time,” said Steve. “It’s . . . . weird, honestly.”

“As soon as you’re past season two, it gets good,” she said, glancing at her brother again. She was worried that he’d wake up—he really did need all the rest he could get.

“An atomic bomb wouldn’t wake him up right now,” Steve reassured her. “Trust me, he’ll be out for a while.”

When Jormungand did wake up, he wasn’t very happy; apparently, Steve had slipped something into his morning coffee to help knock him out.

Steve promised never to trick him again if he would please, please let him help with Sarah.

 

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - -

 

Sarah was growing fast.

At eight months old, she was already trying to walk (she didn’t have it figured out just yet, but she was nothing if not persistent). She’d started teething, and she could hold a spoon and kind of feed herself. She was also trying to talk, even if it was just baby talk.

“Did Erik grow this fast?” Steve asked Jormungand as they watched her play with a stuffed animal while watching a princess cartoon on TV.

“Erik grew at a normal mortal rate,” Jormungand answered. “She’s developing faster.”

He still watched her as if Death Herself hung over her, and Steve could tell he wanted to pick her up off of the floor and guard her from the world. “Hey,” he said gently, resting a hand on Jormungand’s knee.

Jormungand reluctantly looked away from Sarah and looked at Steve.

“You don’t have to watch her every minute of the day,” said Steve. “You’re not alone this time.”

Jormungand swallowed. “I know,” he said quietly. “I don’t . . . .” He swallowed. “I don’t think I can handle losing her again.”

Steve brought his hand up to cup Jormungand’s cheek. “We won’t lose her,” he said in a reassuring tone. “She’s growing a little faster than normal, but she is healthy.”

“Which is hilarious considering your laundry list of health problems,” a newly arrived Bucky said, leaning over the back of the couch. “Serum or none, that shit’s genetic.”

“If her first word is a swear word, I’m blaming you,” Steve sighed, dropping his hand from his husband’s face and turning his head to glare at his best friend.

Bucky just gave him a shit-eating grin before vaulting over the back of the couch and landing on the cushions on Steve’s other side without a sound.

“Un Buh!” they all heard from in front of them and Bucky smiled at Sarah, who’s attention was focused on him (she couldn’t say ‘uncle Bucky’ yet).

“Hey, Meatball,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “How’s my favorite gal doin?”

Sarah was on her hands and knees now, and she was trying to stand up without falling back over. She tried a few times but failed to stay upright for more than a second.

“Persistent little booger, ain’t she,” said Bucky. “She’s definitely yours, Stevie.”

“Where’s Sam?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Hell if I know—we’re fucking, we ain’t married. Sorry, I know, Language,” he said at Steve’s glare, rolling his eyes.

“I agree with Steven,” said Jormungand. “If you or my brother influence her first words at all, I’ll disembowel you.”

“Love you too, Jormy,” Bucky said with an overly sweet smile.

Jormungand glared at him.


	19. nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I’m still trying to work on this, but I work five days a week now and my days off are used mainly to run errands. I know what I want to do, but I’ve been stuck on how to lead up to it. For now, though, have an Aiden-centric song chapter.

 

-          **\- - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - --**

**Somebody told me love was a scary game**  
A puzzle that's impossible to win  
Give it up  
Hop off the love train  
It'll only lead you to a dead end

****  
  


Don’t fall in love.

That was the cardinal rule Justin Hammer pushed onto his son from day one—don’t bother with love, because nobody would ever love him back.

He was lucky to be alive.

He was nothing special.

Aiden believed every word of it.

His whole life, he believed he wasn’t worth loving, so he never tried. One night stands were all he allowed himself—he never got attached.

Until he met Erika Stark.

 

****  
And it might be tough but I'll chance it  
I want to give your love a taste  
This one's alive  
Let's dance it  
Don't want to let forever go to waste

****  
  


Erika was . . . . .

She was something else. When he pushed, she pushed back. It was cliché to say she wasn’t like other girls, but she really wasn’t.

 

 

**Don't want to fall forever**  
Just let me look into your eyes  
Cause you're the only one who can bring me back to life

She was a challenge, and he liked that, but when he finally got what he wanted—when everything finally boiled over in that back alley—he still wasn’t happy with just that. He kept going back, and she kept letting him.

He couldn’t get enough.

 

 

**And I don't know much about love**  
But I know you got the key to my heart  
And baby your touch is enough  
And if we ever start falling apart  
Wind it up  
And baby I'm yours tonight  
  


Aiden didn’t believe in falling in love at first sight, but he’d recently realized that he’d already been falling for a while.

 

 

****  
Ballerina if you let me  
I promise that I won't let you fall down  
I've never seen a ballerina so scared to let her feet touch the ground

They weren’t even friends, a few quick fucks here and there certainly didn’t make them lovers.

‘Maybe that could change?’ part of him thought. ‘Maybe she’s the one.’

 

**Oh wind me up  
And baby I'm yours tonight**

It was official—Erika Stark had his heart, wholly and completely, and it didn’t matter to him if he had hers.

After all, he was nothing special.

 

 

-          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics and inspiration for this chapter came from the amazing Todrick Hall’s song Wind It Up. It was originally a duet chapter because there’s a male and female vocal part of the song, but I decided on only focusing on Aiden right now.


	20. twenty

 ‘Another night, another charity gala,’ Aiden thought to himself while pretending to listen to whomever was talking to him.

At this point, they were starting to bore him.

“—sure we’ll have something worked out in no time, isn’t that right, Aiden?”

Aiden focused on the present, giving Justin his best ‘I heard every word of what you just said’ look. “Absolutely,” he said smoothly, giving Justin’s companion a charming smile. They were oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t been listening and gave a hearty chuckle, followed by a pat on the shoulder.

Aiden was about to ask to be excused when he caught sight of a familiar form wrapped in green silk across the ballroom.

‘So, Stark got dragged along, too,’ he thought. ‘Maybe tonight won’t be a total waste after all.’

Aiden cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, giving Justin’s companion another grin before wandering away from them. He was calculating his chances of at least getting a blowjob in the bathroom when he got a good look at her.

His thoughts ground to a halt.

In Aiden’s not-so-humble opinion, Stark had always been one of his more attractive acquaintances. Even after being permanently crippled, she managed to hold herself like royalty.

Tonight, though . . . . . .

She looked like something out of a fairytale.

Aiden swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and pushed the warmth he was feeling down. His usual cool mask was in place by the time he reached her side.

Her reaction upon seeing him was the same she always had—disdain and irritation, with a tiny spark of interest.

“Hammer,” she greeted coolly.

“Still not using my name, I see,” he prodded, and he mentally winced.

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

“Only the half that matters,” she shot back. “For a second there, I thought you were going to ignore me all night.”

So she’d been watching him, too

Aiden did his best to look unaffected. “Careful, Princess, or people might start to think you care.”

Here eye roll was predictable. “As if.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, then a thought gripped him. It dug its claws in him and wouldn’t let go until he turned to her and offered his hand. “Care to dance?”

Erika narrowed her eyes. “If you think you’re being funny, you’re not.”

It was Aiden’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’ll go slow so you won’t look like a _complete_ clod. Unless, of course, you’re _scared.”_

There it was—the spark in her eye that he identified as her needing to always show him up. She set her drink down on a passing waiter’s tray and fiddled with her leg brace. A spark of light jumped from her fingertips to her leg before she gave her foot an experimental tap.

“Sometime this year?” he prompted.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she shot back, taking his hand and letting him lead her out to the dance floor.

**You're in my arms, and all the world is calm.**  
The music playing on for only two.  
So close, together.  
And when I'm with you  
So close, to feeling alive.  
  
Even crippled, she was still every inch the graceful Stark heiress he’d met years ago. She followed his movements perfectly and not once did her step falter.

She was breathtaking. ****  
  
So close to reaching  
That famous happy end.  
Almost believing  
This one's not pretend.

Why were they always at each other’s throats? Because their dads were rivals? They were perfectly in synch right now—why couldn’t it be like this all the time? Aiden had genuinely wanted to befriend her when they’d first been introduced, but her disdain for his family name had stopped anything before it even had a chance to start.

**And now you're beside me,**  
And look how far we've come.  
So far we are. So close...

Tony and Justin were no doubt fuming. They’d be furious if they knew their children had been fucking behind their backs.

That’s all it was, after all—enemies using the other to let off steam. His spur of the moment dance with her would end, and they’d go back to getting each other off in broom closets and employee bathrooms. Even that would end when she found someone better than him—someone she actually liked.

Except . . . . .

He didn’t want it to end. ****  
  
Oh how could I face the faceless days  
If I should lose you now?

 

They couldn’t keep this up. They couldn’t keep fooling themselves into thinking that this didn’t mean anything.

Something must’ve shown on his face, because she was looking at him with wide eyes and her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise.

He hoped she understood—he couldn’t keep pretending.

She backed away from him, shaking her head slightly before running from the ballroom.

He wasn’t brave enough to go after her.

****  
  
We're so close to reaching  
that famous happy end,  
And almost believing,  
this one's not pretend.  
Let's go on dreaming  
for we know we are...  
so close, so close  
and still so far...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erika’s dress -- http://lillyxandra.deviantart.com/art/Elven-Bridal-Gown-538651602

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to write more about Fenrir, Sleipnir and Hela. I really need to stop focusing on Jor so much, I’ve kind of singled him out as my favorite. Oops.


End file.
